


It's A Small World

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Cheating, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Getting Back Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Giving Birth, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Heartbreak, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Loneliness, M/M, Major Illness, Minor Character Death, Not for Bob haters, Oral Sex, Pining, Post-Break Up, Probably not like this, Some kind of magic I guess, Suicidal Thoughts, Vaginal Sex, casting show au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-01 17:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16288469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Zeus, the King of the Gods, orders four Nymphs to seduce a couple of mortal men.Nine months later, five children are born.Eighteen years after that, Frank Iero is a judge on a casting show.And the contestants in those black ski masks remind him too much of a band he had thought would last forever.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Post-MCR fanfic, Frerard centric, but with a lot of Bob/OFC. If you don't like him, this isn't for you.The underage is just mentioned, nothing graphic.





	1. Now come one, come all to this tragic affair

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Minor character death, giving birth, blood
> 
> The beginning might be a bit weird, but bear with me, it (hopefully) gets better :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Giving birth, blood, minor character death

~~~ 1997 ~~~

Corinna hesitantly stepped through the heavy golden doors. Three others followed close behind. She had a nodding acquaintance with them, but didn’t know much more about each one than their names and parentage. A pompous entrance hall opened to an even more magnificent lounge. Golden ottomans and embroidered pillows were distributed all over the room. Gods were chatting amicably, drinking nectar and eating ambrosia from the golden platters sparsely dressed young women were carrying around. Corinna swallowed hard. This was painfully far away from the social class she was used to, she was just an insignificant little mountain nymph and she had no idea what she had done to be called before Zeus, King of the Gods, himself.

A loud voice announced: “The nymphs Maia, Daphne, Penelope and Corinna!” When Corinna turned around, she realized that Hebe had spoken, the God’s cupbearer, one of many daughters of Zeus. Before she knew it, they kneeled down in front of a massive golden throne, that was jeweled all over. That thing would probably be enough too end all hunger in the world. Corinna kept her head down and her cynic thoughts to herself. All she could see was a pair of big and pretty hairy feet clad in golden sandals. “Rise!”, a deep, rumbling voice demanded and she obeyed immediately. When she looked up, she took in the King of the Gods. He was tall, almost twice the size of a human. His long white beard rested on his chest and his equally white hair covered his broad shoulders. Bulky muscles curled around his limbs and there wasn’t a single wrinkle in his tan skin, despite the color of his hair. Bored blue eyes looked down on them as he wrinkled his perfectly straight nose and emptied his wine goblet in one huge gulp.

Corinna felt her mouth drop open when he finally spoke and told them what exactly was the reason for his summons. Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this! “I have an assignment for you! There is this bomb I have my eye on and, well, she told me to do something nice for humanity. Something that saves lives and makes people happy. She’s on a humanitarian trip or something, I don’t know and I don’t give a damn. Anyway, there are those five boys. They are going to be a music group, I think they call it a “band” nowadays, and go separate ways after twelve years. I want you to seduce them. You are going to bear them each a child. Those boys will grow up as the spitting image of their fathers and continue their work once they’re old enough. It will be all about saving lives and making a difference, so I hope my girl is going to be satisfied. People will get a newer, younger version of that band, all those weird teenagers will have something to obsess over, my dear brother in Hades will get a break and I finally get to fuck her. Everybody’s happy.”

 

Corinna refused to believe what she had just heard. That had to be a joke, was he actually serious?! She risked a glance at Hera, Zeus’ wife, and swallowed hard at the look of outrage and pure hatred on her face. Oh dear, she really didn’t want to cross that woman, thank you very much! And seriously? This plan was the single most stupid thing she had ever heard. Just… WHY!? “Will we become mortal when we are sent down to earth, your Majesty?”, she finally dared to ask after a while of tense silence. Zeus eyed her disdainfully, he already looked annoyed and fed up. Just great. After all it was just her fate, that was decided here, having a child had not been on her agenda anytime soon, Corinna wasn’t ready for motherhood!

 

“Yes, of course! I’ve asked the oracle, this is gonna save quite a few lives in the long run, that should help with conquering my girl, she really is quite a challenge”, he replied and waved his hand dismissively. Oh. Of course. This was madness! “Your Majesty, could it by chance be easier to prevent that break up in the first place? Wouldn’t that have the same effect?”, Corinna blurted out without thinking. Zeus narrowed his eyes at her while the other nymphs next to her flinched violently and one of them hissed under her breath: “Are you really that weary of life, girl?!”

 

“Maybe, but I would have to rewrite their fates completely, which is a lot of work. This is so much more convenient, dramatic and… entertaining. Eternity bores the shit out of me! Which is why you will go down there, fuck those guys, whelp and make sure your spawn does what they’re supposed to do!”, he growled lowly, small bolts of lightning dancing in his beard as he became angrier by the second. That was when Maia, the eldest of their group and an ex-lover of Zeus, who had given birth to his son Hermes, spoke up calmly: “Of course we will be delighted to serve Your Majesty however we can. We are humbled and grateful beyond belief for such a tasking assignment. Do you have any preferences as to how long we’ll be to stay on earth?”

 

The King of the Gods grinned at that, a menacing grimace, that sent chills down Corinna’s spine. “Until the day you fucking _die_. You’re gonna fuck those guys and give me a miniature version of them, but I don’t want any more annoying brats in the mix than strictly necessary. You won’t get laid after that one time. Since you’re nymphs, your viability will run out steadily if you don’t get any every now and then. It should take about twelve years, give and take. You’re gonna die one way or another and come back here afterwards. And don’t even think of fucking around, I’m gonna know it if you do and my brother’s hell hounds are always hungry”, he announced with a cruel spark in his eyes. Oh Gods, Corinna instantly wished that she had kept her mouth shut. She had probably made it even worse than it had already been. So they would leave their sons behind as orphans once they had done their King’s bidding? Just typical, they were just the God’s rubber stamp, peasants on their chessboard, brood mares for their amusement. What had they ever done to deserve this?!

 

“Oh, one more thing. Two of them are brothers. I want your brood to resemble them as closely as possible, hence why there’s only four of you. One of you will have twins. One after the other within a day or both at once, I don’t give a damn, as long as you do what’s necessary”, Zeus continued and rubbed his hands in malicious glee. Seriously!? That was fucked up on so many levels… Corinna bit her lips, stared at the floor and hoped with all her heart that he wasn’t gonna choose her for that. She knew absolutely nothing about having children, she didn’t even like babies all that much, it would be hard enough to cope with one, let alone two! Zeus’ foot was tapping impatiently. Oh Gods, please, no! He said: “Uhmmm… you!” Corinna’s head snapped up fast enough to give her whiplash. She closed her eyes as relief washed over her when she realized that he was pointing at Penelope, not her. It was probably incredibly selfish, but the elder nymph did have child-bearing hips, whereas Corinna herself was barely considered an adult amongst her people.

 

Zeus emptied another goblet of wine and waved his hand dismissively. “Alright, I have more important things to do! There’s gonna be a house and money and these are the guys I chose for you!”, he stated matter-of-factly. Corinna’s breath caught in her throat when the bright image of a blond boy with blue eyes appeared in front of her. He was so incredibly young! Seventeen, eighteen maybe? But before she could even have a look at the other ones, everything blurred around her and Zeus’ booming voice said: “And now… off to work we go!” Suddenly Corinna found herself standing in a dimly lit alley, wearing tight black leather pants, a flimsy top and ridiculously high shoes. Just great. How was this her life?!

~~~

On a Friday night in February of 1997, Frank Iero ended up in a stranger’s bed at some party, with a ridiculously hot woman riding him into oblivion as he shot his load with a totally manly squeal. Meanwhile Ray Toro came to terms with the fact that he really didn’t mind being tied to his bed and shagged until his eyes crossed as he blew up like a bomb. Mikey Way never really knew how it happened, but on his way home from high school he ran into a beautiful woman and found himself losing his virginity to her in his basement bedroom only a few minutes later. He had to have fallen asleep afterwards, because she was gone when he woke up. That night his elder brother was dragged into the bathroom of the shady bar he frequented and wondered why the woman, who ravished him, smelled like home.

 

However, somewhere in Chicago, things didn’t go as intended. It was supposed to be a quick, purposeful shag, but the moment Corinna set eyes on him, she realized that she would be unable to stick to the plan. She saw him in that dimly lit alley outside a club and felt her breath catch in her throat. Gods, those cerulean eyes! He was tall, almost 6 feet, if she were to estimate, quite stout and his hair was a rich golden color. To her, he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. There was no way she could bring herself to abandon him as soon as the deed was done. Corinna was drawn by an irresistible force, her surroundings melted away into insignificance as she tentatively stepped closer and felt like she was drowning in his sapphire eyes.

 

Later on she would realize that she had no recollection of how they arrived at his parents' house, she was too lost in heated kisses and promising touches to care. However, from the moment he bolted the door of his room, everything was burnt into her memory in minute detail. He undressed her clumsily, breathing hard and even shaking a little. It was probably not the first time that he was with a woman, but he was endearingly inexperienced. Gentle, but firm hands clutched her waist when he shoved his cock into her pulsing core. It was abnormally big for a human male, he dilated her to the limit, the sweetest sigh falling from his lips when their hips met as he forced it in entirely. Corinna wouldn’t have minded a few hours of sex, it was over far too soon, but the urgent, almost frantic way he moved inside her was equally overwhelming as it was unexpected. Never had she experienced anything like it before. He made her blood sing and her heart burn until she howled in ecstasy and his hoarse cry mingled with her own.

 

Afterwards they laid next to each other, panting and shaking, but blissed out beyond compare. “I don’t even know your name”, he said after a while in a clear, soft voice. She stretched luxuriously and whispered: “It’s Corinna.” He smiled at her, the faintest dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Robert. But Everyone calls me Bob”, he told her before he pulled the comforter over both of them. Corinna hummed appreciatively and shifted closer until she could cuddle up to his side and rest her hand on his chest. Robert. A Germanic name, it meant ‘bright fame’, if she wasn’t mistaken. It suited him. He pulled her closer and lifted her chin before his soft lips covered hers in an impossibly tender kiss. That was the moment she knew that she wanted this to last. Warm, golden happiness spread through her chest and something inside her fell into place. She would deliver the son the King of Gods wanted her to carry, but his father would be with her every step of the way.

 

However, just when she was about to fall asleep in her lover’s arms, bright light erupted from the corner of the room and a tall figure in a gray suit appeared. Corinna felt her insides freeze over. She knew why he was here, the logical part of her mind figured it out immediately. But her heart disavowed that Hermes, Herald of the Gods, had been sent to take her away from the man she had chosen as her mate. “Please… let me stay with him“, she whispered with tears of despair burning in her eyes. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing down here and I don’t give a damn. My father told me where to take you, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Deal with it. Get dressed, I don’t have all night, there are two of your kin waiting for me in a hot spring and I won’t be late for that because of you“, Hermes told her briskly. Corinna pressed her face into Robert’s chest and let out a soft sob. Everything inside her screamed at the mere thought of never seeing him again. He was out cold, which was hardly surprising, she was a nymph and had fed off his strength through their coupling. If only she could see those divine eyes again! Only once more!

“Oh Hades, get on with it!”, Hermes urged her on. Corinna squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips to Robert’s one last time. She was no match for a God. He would probably drag her out of here by her hair if necessary. What would become of her if she openly defied the King of the Gods, she didn’t even want to imagine, his threat to feed them to Hades’ hell hounds still fresh in her memory. Hermes impatiently tapped his foot while she fumbled with her clothes and slipped on those ridiculous human shoes again. Once she was decent, she took one last longing look at the sleeping boy in front of her. So close, yet so painfully far out of her reach. She had no idea how to survive without him. A golden gleam caught her eye. A necklace on the bedside table, she remembered vaguely that he had taken it off before they had collapsed onto the bed. Quickly, before Hermes could drag her away, she grabbed the piece of jewelry.

 

Corinna took the hand Hermes held out to her and tried in vain to hold back her tears. It was so horribly unfair! She might be only five hundred years old, but she had spent her entire life looking for the one man, who would complement her perfectly and now that she had found him, he was immediately ripped away from her again. She didn’t even know his last name, where he lived or what he was going to do once he graduated. Corinna wanted to know the sound of his laughter, his dreams and his quirks, just everything there was to know about him. Was that really too much to ask for? Suddenly everything around her melted into a blur of colors and noises and before she knew it, they were standing on the pavement in front of a two-story house in a quiet street. She could hear traffic in the distance and the whisper of the wind in the bare branches of the trees all around. It was a peaceful place, but she didn’t even notice the beauty of it, the pain of her broken heart was still too sharp and fresh for that.

 

When she finally turned around, Hermes was gone. Actually Corinna would have loved to ask him what he thought of Maia, his own mother, being roped into this ridiculous mission, but oh well, she didn’t get what she wanted lately. The moment she opened the door and stepped into the warm, brightly lit hallway, the others were upon her. “Thank the Gods, we were so worried! What took you so long?“, Daphne wanted to know and hugged her tightly. Corinna couldn’t take any more. She clung to the other nymph, buried her face in the crook of her neck and cried like she never had before. The yearning for Robert was so intense, her entire body was shaking with it. How was she supposed to live through twelve years of that?! “Oh dear, why did you bind yourself to him?”, Maia gasped in shock. Corinna had no idea what she was talking about. “I didn’t do anything! I wanted to stay with him, but they sent Hermes after me. Its just… he’s so perfect! He’s beautiful and kind and tender and strong and…-”, she said, but was interrupted by the elder nymph’s weary sigh.

 

Maia gently laid an arm around her shoulders and guided Corinna into a large living area and over to a big couch. “Listen, girl… You are still so very young, I guess it isn’t surprising that you don’t know about it. It’s a very rare occurrence, it hasn’t happened in nearly two millennia. We are nymphs, it is our fate to seduce men and use their strength to keep alive and healthy. It doesn’t matter who it is, as long as they can provide enough energy. Sometimes one of us falls in love and stays with one partner for a while. But eventually the connection will become weaker, copulation won’t be enough to satisfy her needs any more, she will become restless and go out to look for someone new again. Men are drawn to us, it’s easy to seduce them, but if we don’t do that for whatever reason, we wilt and eventually die. The longest we can go without sex is around twelve years, but we’re gonna feel the itch after three days at the latest. That much you probably know already.

 

However, every few centuries, one of us finds her one true mate. It’s a very special bond, one that can only be severed by death. No man will ever even come close to him again, no one else will be able to satisfy your needs completely. I don’t know very much about it, I have only ever heard of it, never known anyone personally, who was bound to a man. But I can feel the change in you, you are not who you were this morning, your entire aura is different. The only thing, that doesn’t add up, is the fact that he is human. There have been bonds with satyrs, gods and cyclopes, but never with humans, it’s unheard of”, she explained patiently. Corinna stared at her through her tears and tried to make sense of it. A soul bond? She hadn’t even known that was thing, but somehow it felt like the right word to describe what she felt for Robert. Her hand tightened around his necklace until its sharp edges dug into her skin. In that moment, she hated Zeus with a passion. What had she ever done to deserve this? Not even a one-of-a-kind bond with the man she had chosen was enough to let her stay with him!

 

“So… what does that mean for her?”, Penelope asked carefully, but Maia shrugged and shook her head. “I’m afraid only time will tell. It might shorten her life or lengthen it, I have no idea. Maybe it doesn’t affect her at all. I know a few people, who might have an answer to that, but since we’re stuck down here, we’ll have to find out for ourselves”, she said. Corinna buried her face in her hands and pressed her lips to the necklace’s golden pendant. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

 

As it turned out, “nightmare” was a pretty spot-on description of the following nine months. Corinna felt horrible. She couldn’t even stand the thought of food, the nausea was pretty much constant. There were a few things, that didn’t make her throw up immediately, but one could only eat so much pineapple and fried chicken. Her back hurt as she grew heavier and heavier with Robert’s child, her breasts were tender, to the point of not letting her sleep at night, because she could never lay down comfortably. Then the kicks started and woke her up every single time she did manage to fall asleep. Her feet were so swollen, that she could only wear those flip flops humans were so fond of, her protruding belly made it hard to wear normal clothes, and those damn maternity pants never stayed where they were supposed to be. However, she tried not to complain too much, because Penelope had it so much worse. She was carrying twins and she was _huge!_ They tried to help each other to the best of their ability, but it definitely wasn’t easy.

 

In the meantime they had set up a nursery in one of the rooms upstairs and bought tons of baby clothes, comforters and toys. Maia and Penelope, the only ones, who had given birth before, answered Corinna’s and Daphne’s increasingly worried questions patiently and after a while they even worked out how to search for information on this internet thing. One could even estimate the day their children would be born online, which turned out to be the 11th of November. Say what you will, humans were definitely creative, they had to give them that. However, as fascinating as this technology was, it wasn’t very precise, because late at night on the 30th of October, there was a startled scream from the kitchen and when they all hurried there, Daphne stood in a puddle of clear liquid. One by one they felt the dull, dragging pain start deep inside and they were all writhing in pain before midnight. Of course it had to happen at the same time, why in Hades not!? They were all lying on the big sofa in the living room, trying to help each other, but they made only very little progress.

 

Around noon the next day they were still panting their way through the contractions, but it just wouldn’t work! Corinna was so fucking tired, she had never experienced pain, that came even close to this, who did that to themselves on their own volition?! She vowed then and there to never, ever have a child again, you couldn’t pay her enough to ever go through this again. Luckily someone up there in Olympus seemed to take pity on them and sent them a couple of other nymphs to help. Corinna could have cried with relief, but only until she noticed the worried frowns on those women’s faces. In the end it was Maia, who blurted out: “Can someone please go and check whether Eileithyia is sitting outside the door and preventing us from giving birth?! I remember how Hera sent her to cower in front of the hut, in which Alcmene tried to birth Hercules. She had her arms and legs crossed and halted any progress she could have made. The poor girl laid there suffering for seven days before someone realized what was going on and drove her away!”

 

Corinna waited with baited breath when one of the nymphs opened the front door and a dull thud and angry voices could be heard. Suddenly a fresh wave of pain seared through her and something _moved_ down there! She gasped for breath, doubled over and pushed with all the strength she had left. The pain became even worse, she screamed until her throat felt raw, but eventually, with a huge splash and a tug, it was over. Only then did she register the crying of two newborns, that was just then amplified by her son’s voice. One of the nymphs who had helped her, laid a small bundle, wrapped in crisp white linen, onto her chest. Huge cerulean eyes stared at her as the crying subsided and her son took in her face for the very first time. He was the single most beautiful thing she had ever seen. All her pain faded away when Corinna carefully touched his pink cheek and reached for his tiny fist. She had already decided to name him Robert, after his father, but the nymph, that had placed him in her arms, said: “Our king decided that his name shall be Nathaniel Robert Cory, which shall be your surname, as well.”

 

Corinna gritted her teeth and nodded. If his father’s name hadn’t been included, she would have thrown a fit. She had suffered through almost a day of pain and nine months of pregnancy and they wouldn’t even let her name her own child!? Yes, she did like the name, but once again – was that really too much to ask for?! However, even more than that she wanted Robert by her side right now. She still missed him so desperately, it was a steady, gnawing need deep in her heart, as if she had left half of it with him in his parent’s house. There had been so many moments throughout her pregnancy she wished she could have shared with him, like the first time she felt her son move inside her or the day she discovered that she showed already. But here she was, on her own. Robert would never know that he was a father, until the day some sick god decided to finish this plot he was playing. Corinna kissed Nathaniel’s forehead and felt her heart swell with happiness when he sighed quietly. It was the cutest sound she had ever heard.

 

However, only a few seconds later she registered the loud voices and the hectic rush around her. Nymphs were running around, bringing clean linen and water, as the atmosphere changed entirely. Corinna looked around and realized that Daphne was nearly falling asleep from exhaustion with her son in her arms and that Penelope was holding two little bundles, as well. But Maia was lying in a pool of red, that was already dripping of the leather couch. The words placenta accreata made it through and Corinna swallowed hard. This wasn’t happening. They wouldn’t let her bleed to death, right? She was the mother of Hermes, one of the greatest Olympian gods! But a hand, that fell limply onto the couch and a long, soft exhale told her otherwise as Maia’s head fell to the side and her wide, unseeing eyes stared into the fireplace. For a moment, everyone froze.

 

Corinna couldn’t believe it. Were they really that insignificant to those almighty beings up in their ivory tower? That was when her gaze fell onto the squirming bundle in on of the nymphs’ arms. She was even younger than her, still half a child, and looked completely mortified. Corinna sighed heavily, fought back her tears and extended her free arm. “Give him to me”, she whispered and closed her eyes for a moment when she felt the boy’s weight on her chest next to Nathaniel. “Let me guess, they picked a name for him, as well”, she hissed through her teeth. “Uhm… they did”, the girl told her hesitantly and hurried to get out of the room as quickly as possible. Corinna sighed again and made eye contact with Daphne and Penelope while their helpers were busy tidying up, covering Maia’s body with a blanket and getting ready to leave. They had pulled through the most painful part, but something told her, that the worst was still to come.

 

It was Eileithyia, who had killed Maia, Corinna was sure of it. The goddess of birth had always been Hera’s creature, from the beginning. And Zeus’ wife was infamous for torturing the women her husband cheated on her with. Now she apparently wanted to make sure that his plan to woo whatever woman he had set his eyes on didn’t work in the first place. And since Maia had been the one to frustrate her scheming… It frightened her that the eldest and wisest among them was gone so abruptly, she had become a good friend during the long months of pregnancy and Corinna was going to miss her terribly. But not as much as little Anthony, who would never know his mother. Nobody thought of him. Why did the Gods have to settle their disputes on their backs?!


	2. You're in time for the show

~~~ 2016 ~~~

Frank Iero took his seat in one of six red chairs. He had no idea why he had let himself be roped into this, but here he was, a judge on a fucking TV show somewhere in Los Angeles. How was this even his life?! It was a brand new concept, they were looking for the best alternative rock band and would pick eight out of the twenty-four groups, that had made it through the preliminary rounds. Next week today’s events would be broadcast as the first episode on TV, then there would be a live show the week after that and the finals of the Top Four in three weeks. In the meantime they had organized some kind of boot camp for the candidates, which was how they differed from most other shows.

 

Early on it had been decided, that they didn’t want to simply pick a bunch of talented people, sign them and then thrust them into the merciless, cutthroat music business. No, they would do their best to pass on as much of their knowledge as they possibly could. There would be lessons on how the industry worked, how to survive the short fame winning the show would bring, what to sign and what to be wary of. That was Pete Wentz’ job, he was the one, who had come up with this entire thing a few years ago and who was the driving force behind it. Frank really wished he had had someone teach him all that when he got started and everything had been new and scary.

 

Patrick Stump was responsible for the publicity part, how to behave during an interview, how to deal with nosy questions, paparazzi and reporters. They were going to see how that went, after all this was a brand new show and a lot of it was trial and error. On top of that Patrick had offered to help with the guitar lessons, which was where Frank came into the picture.

Of course there would be practice sessions for every band, but someone had had the idea to try and train all the bassists, guitarists, drummers and singers in groups, so that everyone could benefit and learn from each other. So there was Brendon Urie for the singers, Tyler Joseph for the bassists, Josh Dun for the drummers and Frank for the guitarists. He didn’t feel too confident about it, there were so many better musicians than him, but Pete and Brendon had been hell-bent on uniting the “Emo Trinity” in the jury chairs and hadn’t taken no for an answer. Of course Ray could have done it as the representative of My Chemical Romance, but he had outright refused and used the work on his solo album, that absolutely couldn’t be postponed, as an excuse. That made six judges, twenty-four groups of candidates and eight tickets to the next round. Frank had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

The winners would be signed to Decaydance, Pete’s label, receive a prize of $100,000 and be the opener for the North American leg of Panic!’s next tour. That was enough to make it, if one had the talent and at least a bit of common sense. Pete had named the show “Battle of the Bands”, BoB in short, and there had been a lot of promotion beforehand, Frank had given at least twenty interviews about it, endured about five photo shoots and the filming of a few trailers for TV. And now, after months of preparation, he finally got to do the actual work. Andy Biersack, who had agreed to host this thing, greeted the audience and announced the first band. Alright. How hard could it be?

 

About two hours later they all had a break to grab something to eat. Frank had kinda gotten into the groove and over his anxiety, he was actually having fun by now and tried to keep track of each act in his notebook. So much talent in one place, he was totally blown away and he had no fucking clue how they were supposed to chose between those amazing people. Once they got going again, there was a three-piece band named Vertigo from San Diego, who reminded him a lot of Green Day. Next came Home By Ten, four guys from Dallas, who leaned more towards Panic’s Pretty Odd days. After that Crash Barrier, five angry guys from Seattle, burned the house down until Frank’s ears were ringing. They would probably fit “hardcore punk” a lot better that “alternative rock”, but Frank wasn’t gonna complain, since he felt more at home in that genre, anyway. They were his favorites so far, he added a big plus sign underneath his notes. The day went on and Frank was already swamped as it was, there were two or three groups, that had stood out to him, but the rest started to blur into one.

 

Until five guys walked up on stage and Frank did a slight double take when he realized that they were in black ski masks and all one could see of them were their eyes and mouths. They got ready, their drummer started the song, the two guitarists on the left side of the stage and the bassist on the right joined him and Pete and Patrick grinned like Cheshire cats. It took Frank a few seconds to realize that it was “Sugar, We’re Going Down”. They definitely had balls to play Fall Out Boy, actually this was the first song by either of them he had heard today.

 

Frank moved his head to the beat (it really was catchy as hell) and tried to get a good idea of the actual performance. The drummer was a short guy, who kept jumping around on his stool Josh Dun style, damn, that kid had a lot of energy! The bassist was skinny and seemed to be a quiet dude, he didn’t move around all that much, but he hit every note precisely, definitely one of the best bass players they had seen so far. Frank bit his lips and narrowed his eyes. There was something about that kid… Finally it clicked that he reminded him of Mikey. And it wasn’t just because they both had those awkward knees, their style was really similar and the way they moved… if he hadn’t known better, he would have suspected that his former band mate was pranking him.

 

On to the guitarists. Alright, this was getting creepy. The guy on the far left, who obviously played lead guitar, was really good and could as well have “Ray Toro” written all over his forehead. He even sang backing vocals and the voice was the exact same fucking thing! What the hell was going on here?! Frank was tempted to ring up his friend to prove to himself that he was hallucinating, but he knew that Ray was celebrating his birthday with his family today.

 

When he set eyes on the second guitarist, his breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t as good as the other guy, not by a long shot, he lacked his precision and ease, but he definitely wasn’t bad. They had seen a lot worse today and Frank had always been more instinct than accuracy himself. The thing was that he could have sworn that he was actually watching Gerard perform. Frank closed his eyes for a second and swallowed hard. This was messing with his head, had someone spiked his coffee?!

 

To distract himself, he focused on the singer and narrowed his eyes when he realized that he had heard that voice before. There was only one instance of Bob singing, that was circulating the internet, when they had been messing around and he had announced his solo project called “Songs About Gerard” inbetween takes during the video shoot of Welcome to the Black Parade. However, Frank had heard him a couple of times and there were still a few demos of their former drummer singing Conventional Weapons songs on one of his hard drives. This kid was eerily similar, but he didn’t seem like the typical front man. In fact, both guitarists looked more comfortable with what they were doing than him, he had his hands clamped around the mic, so he didn’t have to find something else to do with them, and didn’t even properly look at the audience, because he sang with his eyes closed for the most part. Frank couldn’t think of many people, who were able to cover Patrick’s voice so effortlessly, but that guy really pulled it off, holy shit!

 

Before he knew it, the song was over and he hadn’t written a single word into his notebook. Frank could only stare at them, still trying to process what had just happened. The rest of the jury were applauding along with the audience and Pete and Patrick were even giving them a standing ovation, but Frank couldn’t have moved if his life depended on it. All he knew was that he would make sure they went on to the next round, and if it were the last thing he ever did.

 

“Welcome to the show! Who are you and where are you from?”, Josh asked them once they stood side by side, the singer with his mic in the middle. He smiled nervously and answered in a quiet, hesitant voice: “Hello, we’re The New Jersey Fire and we’re from Camden, New Jersey.” Now, _that_ was a load of brownie points, but it wasn’t their home state, that had Frank’s breath hitch… Before Mikey had come up with “My Chemical Romance”, they were going to be called “The New London Fire”. It could be a coincidence, of course, but somehow he was pretty sure that they had chosen something so similar on purpose.

 

Meanwhile Brendon said: “Man, you guys have balls to show up with FOB, but you totally rocked it!” “Absolutely, your voice is great, man! You kinda remind me of someone and I can’t put a finger on it, it’s literally on the tip of my tongue!”, Patrick chimed in, looking already frustrated. “Bob. Bryar. One hundred percent. It’s like it was him singing, this is messing with my head”, Frank supplied helpfully as soon as he had snapped out of it. “Dude, you’re right! I wasn’t thinking of him at all and we were room mates, for f-… God’s sake!”, Patrick exclaimed incredulously and shook his head with a fond smile. “Why are you guys wearing those masks?”, Pete wanted to know and Frank frowned when four pairs of eyes turned to the rhythm guitarist before Nate answered: “We don’t want to be pigeonholed because of our looks. It doesn’t have anything to do with stage fright and I swear, we aren’t criminals or anything, we just want people to focus on our music, not our faces.” Tyler smiled at that and commented: “I totally get it and I like your attitude.” No shit, after all him and Josh weren’t strangers to those garments, either.

 

It was a blur after that. Everyone expressed again how good their performance had been before the five guys disappeared backstage and the next band took their place. About an hour later they had thirty minutes to decide who would make it to the next round while Green Day played a short set to keep the audience entertained. Josh had barely closed the door of the dressing room behind them when Pete blurted out: “No matter what you say, those Jersey Fire guys have to stay, oh my God, they reminded me so much of My Chem! That bassist is a miniature version of Mikey, but better! “I second that, the lead guitarist was awesome”, Patrick agreed instantly. “I think their drummer and the rhythm guitarist both need quite a bit of fine-tuning and the singer has his work cut out for him if he wants to be a frontman, but they do have potential”, Brendon added his two cents. “I totally vote for them, the bassist was great”, Tyler chimed in and Josh nodded in agreement. Frank smiled to himself. This show had just become a hell of a lot more interesting.

 

When they returned, Andy made a big show of reading out the eight names they had put into a fucking cliche golden envelope. Every time there was a round of loud cheering and the lucky winners got off the pretty crowded stage. In the end there were seventeen bands left and Frank’s heart broke for all the people, who hadn’t made it. That was already the part he hated the most, he really didn’t want to be the one to crush others’ hopes and dreams. Finally, Andy yelled “The New Jersey Fire” into his mic and the crowd roared with excitement. Only the guys didn’t freak out and jump around, like a few other contestants before them. They simply shared an impossibly tight group hug and didn’t give a damn about anything around them. Frank swallowed hard and looked away. That was the part he missed the most. The friendship, the easy camaraderie, the family they had become.

Thank God Andy wrapped it up pretty quickly after that. Frank managed one last smile for the cameras and hurried to get backstage for a quick shower before he would attend Ray’s birthday party with Patrick and Pete. He needed a fucking drink. But even hours later, when he discussed the pre sale of their new record with his friend James Dewees while the party was going on around them, he couldn’t quite get those New Jersey Fire guys out of his head. They were so strangely familiar... Somehow Frank had a feeling that he had missed something important.


	3. For all the ghosts, that are never gonna catch me

Frank pushed his sunglasses up his nose and took a deep breath before he entered the villa Pete had rented for the band boot camp. It had been ten years, but it looked just like he remembered it. Frank never would have thought that he would ever set foot in here again. Paramour Mansion. Whatever the hell had come over Wentz, he would pay for this. It was widely known what kind of effect this fucking house had had on him and his friends when they had recorded The Black Parade here, Mikey had even taken a break from the band, because his depression had become so bad. Only entering the hallway brought back all kinds of memories...

Traveling to Vegas in a private jet and meeting Lil Jon, who had come over to bring them a case of his Crunk Juice. Mikey sleeping on the floor of Gerard’s room, because he had been too scared to spend the night alone. Gee locking himself up and binge-watching movies about Joan of Arc until he awoke screaming from nightmares of her burning alive. Bailing and moving to apartments when it had gotten too much after all. Bob jumping in one of the rental cars, driving into the middle of the street and doing burnouts, spinning the car all over in a cloud of smoke to reset his brain, because “This Is How I Disappear” had been a bitch to record. Him coming back and nailing the entire thing in one take. Going out for lunch and coming back to Gee, who had completely rewritten “Famous Last Words”.

 

Frank closed his eyes for a second and almost saw him come around the corner, his wide smile showing off his tiny teeth and his eyes sparkling with mischief before he would drag him away to an empty room and… Nope. Frank gritted his teeth. He would not go there! Why did he always torture himself by dwelling on those memories?! He had to get over him. It had been years, Frank had to accept that they were over. Maybe one day. When he was ninety, sitting in a nursing home and had dementia. Something like that.

 

The door behind him opened again and Pete and Patrick entered the house. Patrick looked like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep, after all they had left Ray’s party at two, maybe three am, but Pete definitely had a hangover. Served him right for making Frank put up with this fucking house! He was pale, his red eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, and winced when the door closed with a bang. “Damn, why is it so cold in here? This is L.A. and it’s summer! Morning, Frank...”, Patrick greeted him absentmindedly while he rubbed his upper arms for warmth. “Hey, man. It’s always fucking freezing in here, I could have told you that before”, Frank replied grumpily and pulled the jacket he had brought over his hoodie. “Give me a break, it was cheap and there’s lot’s of space. I like it, it has a great atmosphere”, Pete defended himself and took a sip from the Starbucks cup he held cradled to his chest. “Try living here for a few weeks, then we’ll talk about how much you like the atmosphere”, Frank retorted immediately.

 

Damn, he already felt goosebumps erupt all over his body, it was still as creepy as he remembered and they had only made it into the hallway so far. There was no way he was going into that laundry room in the basement with that long ass corridor. Nope, not happening. Or Mikey’s room. There was _something_ in there and nobody would convince him of the opposite. “Is it really that bad?”, Patrick asked him in a more than skeptical voice. “Yes, it fucking _is!_ We all went nuts, eventually we ran away, moved out and Gee nearly would have admitted Mikey, because he was afraid that he would kill himself!”, Frank ground out and immediately took a few deep breaths before he murmured: “Sorry, I didn’t mean to blow up in your faces, this place gets to me.” Patrick looked a little taken aback, but he nodded and glanced around wearily. Just then Pete sighed: “Just great, I don’t have service”, while staring at his phone. Frank snorted and shook his head. Just typical. He should have realized that when he had rented the estate. “Could have told you that, too”, he said resignedly, before he made for the biggest living room, where they were supposed to meet all the candidates, who had made it through the first show.

This was where they had recorded all their demos during their writing sessions and parts of the finished record. He remembered it so vividly, holy shit, this was surreal! Frank looked around and realized that thirty, maybe forty people could make an awful lot of noise. Holy shit, he kinda felt like a teacher on a school trip. He had barely taken a seat between Tyler and Patrick when somebody yelled: “Get that fucking piece of shit outta my face!” Frank did a double take and Patrick choked on his coffee. Bob had sounded just like that whenever someone had tried to take a photo of him or, even worse, film him. Apparently one of the New Jersey Fire guys had tried to snap a picture of their lead singer, who wasn’t into cameras either and slapped his phone, just when Frank looked at them. “You’re right, this place is fucking creepy”, Patrick murmured next to him as soon as he had recovered from his coughing fit. Frank rolled his eyes and shrugged. But even though he played it cool, he couldn’t wait to get to know those guys. There were so many talented bands amongst their contestants, but in his head, there was only room for one.

 

Just then Brendon got up and yelled: “Alright, guys, shut up and listen! Please pass around this tape and sharpie, write your names where we can see them and introduce yourselves. Just names, instruments, where you’re from, stuff like that.” Then he tossed the tape at Vertigo’s singer and Frank tried to keep up with half an hour of names and faces. Of course it was his luck that The New Jersey Fire were the last in line, but eventually they made it there. Crash Barrier’s bassist handed the tape to their lead singer, who threw a pointed look at one of his band mates and growled: “I agreed to sing, but you do the talking.” Before Frank could wonder what was going on, the guy in question stuck a piece of tape with “Art” written on it on his shirt and said: “Hi, we’re The New Jersey Fire and...”

 

That was as far as he got. Patrick choked again (this time on a bottle of water), Pete nearly jumped out of his chair, Brendon, Tyler and Josh sat there gaping at the guy and Frank felt like crying. Art had talked out of the side of his mouth, his Jersey accent was unmistakable and his voice sounded kinda nasal and growly. Frank would have known it anywhere. What the heck, a Bob double, alright, fine, but this was getting ridiculous! “Yeah, we’re all eighteen years old, we’re from Camden, New Jersey, we grew up together and we started playing when we were four, maybe five years old. Uhm… we did a few basement shows and we’ve played a couple of bars, but only wearing our masks, nobody knows what we look like and we’d like to keep it that way. So… I sing and I play piano, guitar and a bit of bass”, Art finished his introduction and smiled bashfully. Frank swallowed hard and grabbed the armrests of his chair so hard that he was afraid to break it. This couldn’t be real, he was imagining things!

 

But before he could freak out for real, Nate spoke up and added: “Hi, I’m Nate. I play drums. Trombone, too. Oh, and they made me the lead singer.” Frank frowned and tried to make sense of that. They had _made_ him the lead singer? It had seemed like he wasn’t too thrilled about it. But if Art sounded like Gerard, could he sing like him, too? And if so, why would they exchange him with Nate? Not that he sucked as a singer, absolutely not, but Frank could already tell that Art was a lot more charismatic than him. If Nate was anything like Bob, he was an incredibly committed, talented, hardworking musician, but definitely not a frontman.

 

The next in line cleared his throat and said: “Hey, I’m Manny, I play lead guitar and I do most of the backing vocals. I can play a bit of piano, but Art is way better than me. Oh, and ukulele, too.” Frank saw Tyler grin at that out of the corner of his eye. He had kinda expected Manny to sound the way he did. His soft voice seemed to be a little too high for such a tall guy and to top it off, he kept blinking nervously. He couldn’t have impersonated Ray more precisely if he tried. If this was an episode of secret camera, nobody would ever find Pete’s body…

 

The second to last guy stammered: “Uhmm… hi, I’m Jimmy, Art’s my big brother, we’re twins. Uhm… I’m the bassist, but they also make me do backing vocals. Uhm… I also play upright bass and a bit of guitar if I have to.” He was fidgeting in his chair, apparently unable to sit still. His knees were bent awkwardly, he smiled nervously and he didn’t quite look at anybody while introducing himself in a quiet voice. Mikey, right there. Pete seemed to agree, he gaped at the boy like a fish. His bromance with the younger Way brother during the summer of 2005 was legendary and they were really good friends to this day. This was starting to creep Frank the fuck out. There was only one guy left and he held his breath. He already knew what was to come.

 

“Hi, I’m Tony, I play guitar. I also do backing vocals, most of the screaming and drums. And I play the saxophone.” Yeah, probably because it was shiny. Jesus Christ, what had Frank ever done to deserve this!? He would have said it just like this, verbatim, and it would have come out exactly the same, because that kid sounded like his creepy younger twin! Apparently he wasn’t the only one, who had noticed, because everybody stared at the guy until he averted his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Damn, Frank wanted nothing more than to see his face, his curiosity was killing him! He bit the end of his pencil to distract himself and stared pointedly at his notes. How was this even possible? It had to be a prank, there was no other explanation! What were the fucking odds of five guys sounding so similar to them, growing up together and deciding to start a band?!

 

It was silent for a very long time, but eventually Brendon cleared his throat. Of course it would be him, the guy was physically unable to shut up for more than five minutes. “Do you really want to… keep those masks on all the time?”, he wanted to know with a frown. Apparently Frank wasn’t the only one dying to see their faces. “Yes, definitely. Too many people and too many cameras”, Art replied immediately and unsurprisingly. “Guys, I totally respect that, really, but to be honest, I would feel a lot better about this if at least one of us knew what you look like. I don’t want to imply anything, but you could be anybody under those masks”, Tyler said carefully, supported by murmurs of agreement from the rest of the coaches. Art looked like he wanted to protest, but Manny threw him a very pointed glance, that reminded Frank of the “band-dad-glare” Ray had used whenever one of them had done something dumb. “Fine, alright… but only one of you, please. I don’t know, Patrick maybe?”, Art sighed in defeat.

 

They all got up and out of the room, but apparently they went no further than the hallway, because Patrick suddenly gasped loudly and yelled at the top of his lungs: “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!” It was the hardest thing Frank had done in a while not to jump up and see for himself. When his friend finally returned on the five guy’s coat-tails, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. Patrick had always been pale, but now he was positively white and moved jerkily towards his chair, where he slumped down and buried his face in his hands. Of course Pete and Brendon immediately started to pester him with questions, but he didn’t even seem to hear them. Eventually he pulled himself together and groaned: “Let it go, they made me promise not to tell anybody. And you wouldn’t believe me anyway.” Frank bit his cheek and watched on how Pete gave his band mate his very best puppy dog eyes, but Patrick was still too shocked to even take notice.

 

What in the world could those boys hide underneath their masks?! Frank was dying to know, but unfortunately they had a pretty busy schedule for the day and he had hardly time to breathe, let alone ponder Patrick’s reaction. They allocated a practice room to each of their eight bands and had them rehearse the songs they had chosen for the first live show in two weeks. There was one alternative song and a rock or metal classic for each group to perform, so that there would be sixteen performances in total. Frank really hoped that The New Jersey Fire would make the most of their choices.

 

Before he knew it, it was time for his and Patrick’s first guitar session. They had been given Ray’s old bedroom and he was so fucking glad that it hadn’t been Mikey’s. There was _something_ in there, you couldn’t pay him enough to ever walk through that door again. All in all there were twelve guitarists and they had each one demonstrate what he could do first. Frank was honestly impressed, they were all pretty good, some even great, but one of them was really fucking brilliant.

 

When Manny from The New Jersey Fire launched into a perfect rendition of “Eruption” by Van Halen, Frank literally felt his eyes bulge. Up until now, Ray had been the best guitarist he knew, even though he never really showed what he could do. But this guy, Jesus fucking Christ! His style was pretty similar to Ray’s, he played an awesome Jackson Rhoads through a Marshall amp and the tip of his nose turned pink when he blushed, because they all stared at him afterwards. “You know… I can’t think of anything I could possibly teach you, man”, Frank managed to say after a while. “Same. Where the _hell_ did you learn to play like that?”, Patrick added weakly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Uhm… I just… played a _lot?_ I got my first guitar when I was four years old and I practiced at least two, three hours a day. And I was maybe a little obsessed with Brian May, Hendrix, Randy Rhoads, David Gilmour and a few others”, Manny murmured bashfully, but Art next to him snorted and said: “Dude, you still are! Don’t even get him started on any of them!”

 

Frank could only shake his head and try not to feel too inadequate for his job. Art was next and played Metallica, “Enter Sandman”. He was pretty good, but nowhere near as amazing as his friend. Afterwards he smiled awkwardly and told them that he was actually a pianist in the first place and only played rhythm guitar when it was necessary. He still was far from the worst player in their little group, a bit more instinctive that precise, but Frank could work with that.

 

The rest of the day passed rather quickly. The sun had already set when Patrick wrapped up the session and Frank found himself sitting by the pool with his feet dangling into the water. He snapped a picture of the statue on the other end and tweeted it with a few ghost emojis. In the relative quiet of the inner yard he finally had time to recap today’s events. All in all it had gone pretty well, better than he had expected, to be honest. His thoughts wandered off to The New Jersey Fire, which had happened way too often ever since their audition. There had been that weird moment when all the groups had gone to their assigned rooms. Nate had stared after the drummers, who had set up in Bob’s old bedroom on the lower floor, because they hadn’t wanted to carry all their equipment upstairs, and sighed wistfully before he had trotted off after the singers. The little drummer, who reminded Frank so much of himself, had quite obviously wanted to join the guitar group instead of his own and Art had stared at the floor while Manny had given him another look. Whatever that had been about, Frank was determined to solve the mystery, that surrounded those five guys.

It had become dark enough for the lights of the pool to spring to life, bathing everything in an eerie blue glow. All of a sudden Frank was assaulted by a memory. It was so intense, that he gasped for air and gritted his teeth. Water all around them, cool hands on his skin, crooked teeth biting the scorpion on his neck and his breath catching in his throat as Gerard pushed inside… No! God fucking damnit! Why was he doing this to himself?! Why couldn’t he finally let it go and get the fuck over him! It was this blasted house, it was messing with his head. Frank bit back a curse. He never should have let himself be roped into this. But of course Pete fucking Wentz had known that he didn’t have anywhere else to be and hadn’t taken no for an answer. What else would he do anyway?

 

There was the record he was about to release with James in a few days and a bit of touring afterwards. Then the Australia tour in October with The Patience and another record once they returned to Jersey, but other than that he didn’t have anything going on. Maybe if he were in a relationship or had a family like Ray, he would have something to keep himself busy, but his last serious relationship had ended years ago. Jamia had left him a few months after the release of their second album. They had toured so much and he had been hopelessly in love with Gerard, he really didn’t blame her. After that there hadn’t been room for anybody but Gee in his life. Until it had all gone to shit. Frank had tried to drown himself in alcohol and sex after the breakup, but that had only made it worse.

 

It had taken a long time, but in the end he had gotten his shit together. He had gone to a shrink, obediently swallowed the pills he had been given and started to write again. It was a slow process, but he was getting there. However, to this day, the mere thought of opening up to a new relationship was just wrong. He had his dogs, his friends and his music. It would have to be enough, even though he really wanted a family of his own. Sometimes Frank wondered if he would have been better off if he had never met Gerard. Maybe. He would probably be married to Jamia. But he never would have known how it felt to truly, madly, deeply love another person. Was it worth it? He had no fucking idea. All he knew was that his life sucked ever since Gerard had decided that he didn’t want him anymore. Frank glanced down at his phone, that was buzzing with twitter notifications, realized that it was already past nine in the evening and decided to get going. He wouldn’t be caught dead in this place at night, he did value what was left of his sanity.

 

Before he could reach for his shoes, the door on the other side of the yard opened and one of the New Jersey Fire guys leaned against the wall, lit a cigarette and fiddled with his phone until “Rise Above” started playing. Frank smiled to himself. The boy had great taste in music. He didn’t seem to notice Frank, so he shouted: “Where did you leave the others?” The guy nearly jumped out of his skin and cursed under his breath before he set eyes on Frank and came over to join him. “They’re getting their asses kicked by Tyler, someone discovered the basketball court”, Tony told him while he toed off his shoes and sat down beside him. Frank accepted the cigarette he was offered, lit up and took a long drag. “Thanks. Good choice”, he said and gestured towards the boy’s phone, just as “Spray Paint” started playing, apparently he had the entire album. “I love them”, Tony replied with a grin before a comfortable silence settled over them.

 

“Tell me about you. Camden, right?”, Frank asked him after a while. “Yeah, born and raised. Uhm… my birthday’s Halloween, just like the guys’, we were born almost simultan-...”, Tony started, but Frank couldn’t help the incredulous sound he made. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me”, he murmured under his breath. Seriously!? What the hell… “Yeah, we get that a lot. It’s weird, our mothers were friends even before we were born, we grew up together, we’re like brothers, even though only Art and Jimmy are related. What are the odds?” Exactly Frank’s thoughts. But something about the “like brothers” part made him think of the way Tony had eaten his lunch in Art’s lap and how the little drummer and the rhythm guitarist had been inseparable whenever they were together. All the Jersey Fire guys were incredibly close and kept to themselves, but those two really were too touchy-feely to pass for mere friends. Frank was somewhat of an expert on that.

 

“Please don’t take it the wrong way, but you and Art seem to be… closer than the rest of you guys?”, he asked him carefully and saw his suspicion confirmed when what little he could see of Tony’s face lit up with a soft smile. He chuckled to himself and answered: “So much for keeping a low profile. He’s my boyfriend, it’s gonna be seven years this Christmas.” Frank swallowed hard at that. “Wow. I had a feeling he might be, but that’s a very long time when you’re eighteen years old”, he managed to say before his throat closed up. So apparently it _could_ work to have in-band relationships. “I know, but I’ve always known that he’s the one, there’s never been a question about that”, Tony stated with a shrug. Frank nodded and cracked a fake smile. He was so fucking jealous. There had been a time when he thought that he had found true love, as well, but he had never been able to talk about it so openly. It still hurt like a bitch. If only he could have been enough for Gerard. Frank stubbed out his cigarette on the concrete to distract himself.

 

After a few beats of silence, Tony sighed and said: “I wish I could be in your guitar group. I’m only somewhat of a stand-in on drums, Nate is so much better than me! Actually he’s the drummer, I’m the rhythm guitarist and Art sings. That’s how we’ve played from the beginning” Frank furrowed his brow. “But why would you change your lineup for the show?”, he asked him, still frowning. It really didn’t make sense to him. Tony sighed again. “Here’s the thing... you all noticed how Art talks exactly like Gerard, right? He always has, and it got even worse after we saw you live in 2011. He sings like him, too, which is why he refuses to do it on TV. We played a few basements and shitty clubs and every single time people only wanted to hear My Chem halfway through. I don’t have anything against your music, man, we’re all huge fans, but we want to be _us_ , not a rip-off of My Chemical Romance, you know? I doubt that we’re ever gonna be as great as you guys, but it sucks to be pigeonholed all the time”, he explained.

 

Frank didn’t even want to imagine how he would have reacted to them playing one of their songs yesterday with Art as lead singer. He probably would have burst into tears and run to hide in his dressing room. “Yeah, I get that. But I’m sure you’re gonna make a name for yourselves”, he offered weakly. Frank wanted to be in Tony’s place so badly. He loved doing his own thing, but nothing would ever compare to My Chem. It had been one of a kind. There was nothing like finding that one unique group of people, who get you immediately and always have your back. And it was really obvious that The New Jersey Fire had the same chemistry. Yes, FIATP came close, but it didn’t give him the feeling of “this is the best thing ever, we’re making a difference. Deep inside Frank knew, that he would never have that again. But Tony did. No, he wasn’t jealous at all.

 

Before his mood turned sour for good, he said: “I’m working on a new album, by the way.” The boy’s eyes immediately lit up. “‘Nothing Above, Nothing Below’? We already pre-ordered it the day it came out and we have tickets for two of your shows. I can’t wait to hear it and it’s still almost two weeks!”, he blurted out in a rush. Frank had to smile at so much enthusiasm, genuinely this time. “Actually that’s not what I meant. It’s more of… a follow-up of ‘stomachaches’”, he explained and bit his lips when Tony positively buzzed with excitement. When was the last time he had been so hyped about something himself? He couldn’t remember. Probably before the breakup. God, he was such a mess! “Oh my God, when are you gonna release it?!”, Tony wanted to know and pulled him out of his brooding. “Probably October, November, something like that. Definitely this year, but after the Australia tour”, Frank replied readily. Actually he wasn’t supposed to tell anybody, it was still under wraps and the official announcement was scheduled for September. But there was something about Tony he couldn’t quite place. As if they were totally in sync (and yes, he did realize that he had just met the guy).

 

“That’s fucking rad, I’m so gonna make the guys buy it for my birthday”, Tony announced with a huge grin. Frank grinned back and pulled his phone out of his pocket. The boy’s excitement did funny things to him. He didn’t know him at all, couldn’t even see his face properly, but he was almost… happy. Or content, at least. That hadn’t happened in a while. “Want to hear some of the new songs? It’s still unmastered, but most of it is complete”, he offered and Tony’s sparkling hazel eyes went wide. “Are you serious?! Oh my God, I’d love to! But are you sure you want to… I mean, you don’t even know me!”, he stuttered out. Frank shrugged and felt the corners of his mouth twitch yet again. He hadn’t smiled sincerely so much in forever. “Yeah, I know, but you’re cool and it almost feels like I kinda _do_ know you in a way? I don’t know, it’s like...”, he tried to explain, but couldn’t find the words. “Like you’re Deathlok and I’m mainstream timeline Luther Manning?”, Tony mused out loud and Frank beamed at him. “See, that’s what I mean!”, he said and randomly picked a song.

 

It turned out to be ‘9-6-15’, the one he had written for his grandfather. At least it wouldn’t raise uncomfortable questions about Gerard, which was pretty much unavoidable with any other song. To Frank’s surprise, Tony wiped his eyes when it ended and sniffed quietly. “Wow, that was deep. And I’m so sorry about your grandpa”, the boy said and smiled when Frank offered him a tissue. “Thanks, man. It’s a very heavy topic, but I’ve always dealt with my problems through music”, Frank muttered in reply. “Yeah, I know, me too. It’s just… I never met my grandparents. Or my parents, for that matter. My mom died at my birth. She never talked about her family and never told anybody the name of my father, which is why no one knows where to start looking for them. I don’t have any relatives at all, that’s why family is… a sensitive topic”, Tony told him with his eyes fixed on his feet in the water.

 

Frank felt his jaw drop. He couldn’t imagine life on his own, it had to be incredibly lonely. “Man, I’m so sorry! That’s so… nobody should have to go through that”, he managed to say and felt horribly inadequate. It didn’t even begin to express how bad he felt for the boy. Hadn’t he been jealous of him only a few minutes ago? “Well, life isn’t fair”, Tony stated quietly. Frank snorted involuntarily. Didn’t he fucking know it. “Amen to that, man”, he growled miserably. He needed another cigarette. And a fucking drink. But most of all he had to get as far away from this fucking house as possible.

 

~~~

 

The next day Art invited Frank to a round of beers by the pool after their guitar session, which was how they left Manny, one of the Check Out guys and Patrick to their shoptalk and made themselves scarce. Tony was already waiting for them with his feet in the water and a pack of Budweiser next to him. They took a seat beside him and Frank felt the tension of the day melt away. He was comfortable with these two guys, even though he had only known them for two days and had no idea what they actually looked like. Art ripped open the pack of beer and handed them each a can. That was when it hit Frank again how much he reminded him of Gerard. He had the same long fingers, the same bitten nails with the chipped black nail polish he had worn during their first years as a band, the same tiny, crooked teeth and the same warm, whiskey brown eyes. How was that even possible? God, he really needed to sleep more that three hours a night, he was beginning to hallucinate!

 

“Are you okay?”, Art asked him and seemed to frown underneath his mask. Frank sighed and finally took the beer the boy held out for him. “Yeah”, he murmured quietly, but it was obvious that they didn’t buy it. No surprise there, Frank was a shitty liar. He took a long drag of the cool beer and played with the tab before he murmured: “It’s just that you are so much like Gerard. You talk like him, you move and act like him and you even look like him from what I can tell. It’s weird.” When he looked up, Art bit his lips and looked down to his feet in the pool while Tony squeezed his thigh reassuringly and leaned against his shoulder. “Good weird or bad weird?”,Art wanted to know after a few beats of silence. Frank chuckled to himself. It was exactly what Gerard would have said. “I have no fucking idea. But I’ll tell you when I figure it out”, he offered and coaxed a smile from the boys next to him.

 

“Manny told me that you write your own songs, would you play me something?”, he tried to change the topic. Art’s eyes immediately lit up and they totally lost track of time, discussing lyrics, recording and arrangements until the rest of the band came looking for them. It was really late by then and Frank realized with a start that he was in a fucking haunted house at midnight and hadn’t even felt uncomfortable in the boy’s company.


	4. And when the lights all went out, we watched our lives on the screen

The following days were a whirlwind of activity and a lot of work as all the bands practiced for their first live performance in roughly two weeks. On top of that Pete and Patrick tried their best to educate all the contestants on the intricacies of the music business. Actually that had been supposed to be a break for Frank and the other coaches, but in the end they all joined in and added their two cents, it was like a huge question and answer session. Frank would have been so much better off if someone had given him such a lecture back when he was just an angry punk kid, who wanted to make music. So yes, they worked pretty hard and the results were more than decent. But the best part wasn’t the training. It was what came afterwards.

 

Frank had somehow started to hang out with The New Jersey Fire every single day. They included him right away, treated him like one of their own and it felt so fucking fantastic. It had been so long since he had been just part of a group, like a normal guy. His own band didn’t count, being the frontman and face of the entire thing was a totally different story, he was the boss there and even though the guys didn’t let him feel it, he realized now how much more relaxed and easy it was with Art, Tony and the others. God, Frank wished he could always have this! Ever since the breakup of My Chem he had missed that camaraderie, the easy banter and the prank wars and he wasn’t ready to lose it again in only three weeks. But the boys would make it big, cut their own path and leave Frank behind. Just like everyone else.

 

However, for now he clung to them and made the most of it. He chased them around the pool with water guns or stayed with them after training and ordered pizza while playing video games. They played basketball against the other bands in the garden, there was a very intense session of D&D and a night of ‘Scream 3’ and ‘Halloween H20’, that had been filmed in the mansion they now used for practicing. Frank had done that only once before and it seemed like a lifetime ago. It had been Bob’s idea, they had all curled up on the sofa in Frank’s room. And because he was a fucking masochist, he proposed to go there this time, too. 

He ended up between Art and Manny, just like last time between Gee and Ray, hence why it became the most intense mind fuck ever. Once or twice he nearly would have cuddled up to Art on instinct, although he managed to catch himself just in time. But as much as it hurt, he could pretend for a little while that he was back where he belonged. With Gee, Ray, Mikey and Bob. There was no Lindsey, Brian was still around, they were writing the greatest record the world had ever seen and it just felt so terribly _right_! But once the lights were turned on again and he registered the black ski masks, it hit him once again that it had been nothing but a beautiful dream. They hurried to get out of the house and to the parking lot. The boys were pretty obviously crept out and wanted to get home  asap, but Frank surpassed them all and practically ran to his rental car before they saw the tears in his eyes. 

 

~~~

 

Friday marked one week since the audition, which was scheduled to be broadcast on TV that night. Josh and Brendon had put a huge screen into the big living room, so that they all could watch it together. Frank had told the rest of My Chem in their group chat that they absolutely had to see it. He couldn’t wait to hear their opinion on his new favorite band. Of fucking course they had been put last, since they stood out so much due to the masks and because they had had the balls to sing an FOB song. Halfway through his phone blew up with notifications. Most of it was Twitter and Instagram, but there was a ‘wtf’ in caps from Mikey and a ‘those guys can’t be real’ from Ray, as well. Next Gerard asked him whether he knew how they looked without their disguise and James practically ordered him to tell them _everything_.

 

Once he was done filling them in, the show was over and the first contestants started to leave. Frank gathered Art, Tony and the others around him for a selfie and sent it off to the chat before he offered to get his friends VIP tickets for the finale in two weeks. He was absolutely sure that NJF, as the other contestants had taken to call them, would make it that far. The room was almost empty when he looked up, but Tony and Art had waited for him and invited him to a Star Wars marathon back at their place. Frank grinned like a Cheshire cat. They certainly didn’t need to ask him twice, he would even watch ‘Attack of the Clones’ without complaint if it meant that he could spend more time with them. 

 

As it turned out, the boys lived in a pretty spacious house about fifteen minutes away from Paramour Mansion. It was an average American home (it even had a white picket fence) with a big living area and kitchen on the lower floor. Nate nearly would have pulled off his mask until he caught an elbow to the ribs from Art. He cursed under his breath and tried to cover his slip up by handing out beer from the fridge. Frank bit his lip and pretended that he hadn’t noticed. He wished they would trust him enough not to hide from him. Hadn’t they said that it was only to keep people’s focus on their music instead of their faces? They were at home and it was only him, for God’s sake! Still, Frank didn’t bring it up. He rather asked them which movies they were going to watch, which led to a rant from Art about how ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ was the best Star Wars movie ever and the old stuff was way better than the new, but he still couldn’t wait for the new movie in December. Frank was pretty sure that he had heard the first part just like this from Gee as well, at some point. 

They settled down in front of the TV as soon as Manny had made popcorn and Tony had placed a bowl of wasabi peas on the coffee table. Frank shared a couch with Art and Tony, Jimmy and Manny took the second and Nate was lounging in an armchair. It was very quiet at first until Art started quoting ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ word by word and the others chimed in. It was fucking hilarious. Frank’s ribs hurt from laughing too hard in no time. He would never get over Manny’s C-3PO impression. A few minutes later Jimmy tossed a piece of popcorn at Nate’s head, because he was falling asleep, which evolved into an epic food war, that left the living room a battlefield. God, Frank hadn’t been so carefree and immature in forever and he loved every second of it! Eventually they all collapsed into their seats again and watched two more movies, but Frank fell asleep around two in the morning.

 

~~~

 

When he woke up, he realized once again that he was getting old. His back was fucking killing him, he wasn’t used to crashing on a couch anymore. Still, the night he had had with the guys had been so worth it, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Frank blinked a few times until he got used to the bright sunlight. He sighed quietly when his gaze fell on Art and Tony, who were clinging to each other beside him. Apparently Tony was just as much of a cuddler as Frank himself, since he had all but wrapped himself around his softly snoring boyfriend. Frank tried and failed to quench his burning jealousy. Was it really too much to ask for that he wanted someone to hold him, as well?

 

Frank gritted his teeth and got up to stretch his sore body. Apparently Jimmy and Nate had made it to their beds last night, but Manny was still asleep on the other couch. A startled noise from the kitchen drew his attention and he turned around just in time to see one of the missing band members speed down the hallway and upstairs. He wore black pajama bottoms and had blonde hair, if the brief glimpse Frank had caught of him was any indication. Only a few seconds later the same pants reappeared on the stairs, this time combined with a Hulk shirt and one of those fucking masks, and Frank realized that it was Nate, who had run from him. He sighed yet again. What would it take for them to open up to him?

 

After a breakfast of pancakes and a stop for coffee, they got to Paramour Mansion just in time before their training sessions started. However, when he held open the door for the guys and entered after them (still shuddering and internally cursing Pete for his choice of location), he caught sight of the man himself, who gestured quietly for Frank to follow him. He swallowed hard when his friend led him towards what had been their heavy room while writing The Black Parade. Nothing good had ever come from it. They had been brutally honest and ripped each other to shreds in there. Frank still remembered his many attempts to convince Gerard that they could work out, even if they made their relationship public. God, had it really been ten years since the last time he had walked through this door?

 

Frank wasn’t even surprised when he was awaited by all the other coaches. Tyler and Josh were sitting on a couch, quietly talking to each other, Brendon was texting in the corner and Patrick stood in the center of the room, kneading his slide cap in his hands. Frank knew an intervention when he saw it. As soon as Pete had closed the door behind them, Patrick cleared his throat and murmured: “Listen, man… I don’t want to tell you what to do in your free time, but you can’t hang out with those boys so much. You have to be unbiased and you already focus too much on Art and Manny during the guitar sessions.” Frank had expected something like this sooner or later. Of course Patrick was right, he was the first to admit that. But he also didn’t give a fuck.

 

“I can’t be impartial when it comes to them, no matter how hard I try”, he stated firmly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. There was no way he would budge. Tyler sighed quietly and said: “Look, I understand how you feel and I admit that they are great guys, but…” Frank gritted his teeth and interrupted him with a growl. “No, you fucking _don’t!_ I’m sorry, Tyler, but you’ll never understand how they make me feel. They have all I ever wanted and whenever I’m with them, I can pretend for a little while that everything’s still okay!”, he ground out, fighting hard to keep his voice from shaking. Frank took in the faces of his fellow coaches. He managed not to ball his fists and blow up on them, but he couldn’t help getting defensive. His eyes landed on Pete. 

 

“Look me in the eye and tell me that you wouldn’t have spent every spare second with them if you had met a younger version of Fall Out Boy four years ago!”, he spat out. Frank knew that it was a fucking low blow, but he just couldn’t keep the words in. There was so much pent up frustration, he had kept it inside ever since the end of My Chem and it had been only a question of time until it was bound to break free. Not even the way Pete bit his lip and looked away or Patrick’s wince stopped him from focusing on Brendon and saying: “And you, could you be indifferent if there were three guys just like Spencer, Ryan and Jon? I thought not. I don’t give a damn what anyone has to say about this. Sometimes when I’m with them, it feels like a repeat of conversations I’ve had with the guys back in the days. And Tony is so much like me, it’s creepy, as if I had known him all my life. This is literally all I have left and I won’t let you, or anyone, take it away from me!”

 

For a few tense moments all that could be heard was Frank’s heavy breathing and the low buzz of conversation in the big living room next door. In the end it was Patrick again, who murmured: “Alright, they’re probably going to win this anyway, the mask thing works like a charm, people love them already. But please, for your own sake… be careful, Frank.” One by one they all filed out of the room until Frank was alone with his thoughts. It was way too late to be careful. He had already become attached and he knew only too well that he wasn’t strong enough to keep a healthy distance. Frank closed his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling. He had never known what was good for him.

 

~~~

 

The second week of training went pretty well. Frank made an effort to give all his guitarists enough attention and he was really proud of the progress they made. The live show performances became better and better, it would be an awesome night, he was absolutely sure about that. Ever so slowly even Pete realized that the fucking house he had rented deserved its reputation. Frank had never wanted to say ‘I told you so’ so badly. He was somewhat used to the sudden cold drafts, flickering lights and the feeling of looming dread, but he hadn’t missed it one bit. One of the contestants even swore that he had seen a white lady and only calmed down after Frank told him that Ray had spotted her too in the hallway outside his room.

 

However, three days before the show he noticed that something was off with NJF. They all looked like they hadn’t gotten enough sleep and were a little out of it. But while they all appeared to be pretty downcast, Manny was positively devastated. He only talked when asked a question and his playing was sloppy and slightly out of time. Frank didn’t know what to make of it. Manny had always been the band dad, the most grown up and sensible, who looked out for the others, but whatever it was that had brought them down, it definitely affected him the most. After their session that day Frank begged Art to stay behind and asked him what was going on. The response was a tired sigh.

 

“Manny’s mom died of an anaphylactic shock when we were eleven years old, we never knew what caused it. And my mom died of an aneurysm a few weeks later, at least that was the result of the autopsy. Tony already told you that he never knew his parents, right? The thing is… today’s the seventh anniversary of aunt Daphne’s death. Manny found her in a hammock in the back garden, he went looking for her when she didn’t show up for dinner. He’s never been the same again. We all lived in the same house, she was like an aunt to us. He’s going to be okay, but this day always sucks. It was such a shock, I will never forget the look on his face when he came running into the kitchen. Now it’s only the five of us and Cori. She’s Nate’s mom. If it hadn’t been for her, four of us might have grown up in foster homes. She adopted Tony right away and Jimmy, Manny and me seven years ago”, Art explained quietly. Frank could only stare at him. He had no fucking idea what to say.

 

~~~

 

The day of the show was incredibly hectic. There were the dress rehearsal, interviews, final wardrobe adjustments, et cetera, which was why Frank only got to talk to people unhurriedly about an hour before the show. The distant buzz of the audience finding their seats was a constant reminder of what was about to happen, but most bands seemed pretty fine, even thought everyone clearly was nervous. However, while all the others seemed to be dealing with somewhat normal stage fright, two of the NJF guys were sitting in a corner and freaking the fuck out by the looks of it. Their band mates were assembled around them and trying their best to help, but it didn’t look like it was working. Manny was talking at them while the other two had their arms around their friends and rubbed their backs.

 

Frank hurried to join them and realized that Nate and Jimmy were nearly paralyzed with terror. He sat down next to Tony, who had an arm wrapped around Nate’s shoulders and managed a nervous smile. Just then Manny stated firmly: “No, I will _not_ let you drink before we go on, forget it! We all know how it ended for Gerard and Mikey! You made us promise to have an eye on your drinking habits, this isn’t up for discussion, because I _know_ that you can do it without booze. Come on, we’ve been waiting for this our entire life and you nailed it two weeks ago, you can damn well do it again!” Frank swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. Of course Jimmy would be frighteningly similar to Mikey in this aspect, too. 

 

“He’s right. You guys are fucking amazing! Just close your eyes for a moment and pretend that you’re back in our training room. Beginning is the hardest part, once you get into your performance, you’re gonna be fine. Besides… you really don’t wanna go down that road. Trust me, I’ve seen the very worst of both Gerard and Mikey. The night before our last show in Japan, right before he sobered up, Gerard crawled into our bus on all fours. He didn’t even make it to the bunks and passed out on the floor with his feet still hanging out of the door. Then he threw up and Ray and I had to make sure he didn’t choke on it. He didn’t even come to when we cleaned him up and he couldn’t remember a thing the next morning. Actually it’s a miracle that he’s still alive”, Frank told them quietly, so that no one else could overhear. 

 

He took a deep breath when he realized that they were hanging on his lips and swallowed hard before he continued: “Look, you guys have to create some sort of stage act. Like... you flip a switch and become a different person, who is confident and fun and extrovert and you go out there and nail it. You do stuff you never would dream of doing offstage. And afterwards, when you wrap it up, you leave that persona up there or it’s gonna drive you crazy. It takes a while to get the hang of it. Gerard used all that make up, the costumes and the booze to pull it off, but you guys are already wearing your masks like a second face, you can work with that. I’m hardly an expert on stage fright, but this is how I do it. I mean, you’ve seen us play live, right? Would you believe me that Gerard never sang karaoke when he was out with friends, because he was too insecure and nervous to do it? Hardly any musician I know is just the way they present themselves up there in real life. You’re gonna get there. People love you already. There’s literally nothing you can do wrong if you just go out there and give it your best shot.”

 

Nate sighed heavily, buried his face in his hands and growled: “You fucking owe me for this, Art!” Frank squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. They would be great, he just knew it. “Go do your warm-ups, guys”, he gently shooed them off and went to find himself a quiet corner to do the same. There would be a coach performance before the competition started, Bohemian Rhapsody, and he really didn’t want to fuck it up. He was already convinced that every single one of his colleagues was more talented than him and he wasn’t planning on messing up and proving it to be true in front of millions of people.

 

To Frank’s all-encompassing relief, their performance went off without a hitch. His guitar solo was on point, he managed his backing vocals just fine and Brendon and Patrick delivered an incredible demonstration of their vocal skills. Afterwards they all sat down in their big red chairs while Andy Biersack once again greeted their audience. The guy really wasn’t half bad as a host. They started with a bang as Crash Barrier burned the house down with their rendition of “Minority” by Green Day. Next were Home by Ten and Vertigo before it was time for The New Jersey Fire to take the stage. Frank noticed that Jimmy was still more than tense, but Nate seemed to be alright, at least for now. Manny started the intro and Frank took a deep breath, willing them to play it well. “Coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine, gotta gotta be down, because I want it all...” Luckily the audience went totally crazy as soon as Nate had opened his mouth and carried them through the entire song. It was a classic, after all. They were showered with praise by his fellow coaches and Frank followed suit, encouraging them the best he could.

 

Nearly two hours passed before he got to see them again. Their second song was the last of the night and ever so slowly the tension was rising. Only a few minutes until they would know who made it into the finals! This time it was completely up to the audience’s votes and Frank hoped with every fiber of his heart that he would get to spend another week with those amazing guys. They took position and he held his breath. Tony raised his arms. Master of Puppets was really fucking hard to play. But Manny proved once again that he was a fucking guitar _legend_. The kid was on fire, Frank had never seen him perform like this! Holy fucking shit, where had that come from!? Art couldn’t quite keep up, but it wasn’t too noticeable and Tony was working very hard not to mess up, too. Luckily their lead guitarist shone so brightly that it covered up their slight slip ups. Nate delivered a solid performance, as well, and most importantly – he finally let loose and moved all over the stage. He was far from a great frontman, but it was a start and a huge step for him. Frank was so incredibly fucking proud of them.

 

There was a commercial break before the results were presented. His phone blew up once again, but he only had eyes for Ray fangirling over Manny in their group chat. Toro couldn’t shut up about the performance and insisted on meeting the kid as soon as possible. God, he was so predictable! Frank chuckled to himself while Andy ushered all the candidates out onstage and got ready to announce the finalists. Someone yelled “action” and thus began the longest five minutes of Frank’s life. A chick with fake boobs, bleached hair and a tight red dress strolled towards their host and handed him another golden envelope. Apparently Andy got off on torturing them, because it took him forever to spit out first Crash Barrier, then Surrogate Fuel and Vertigo. Frank bit his lips and exchanged a desperate look with Pete next to him. His friend had been NJF’s biggest supporter besides Frank from the beginning and was apparently equally horrified at the thought of them bowing out tonight.

 

Fucking finally Andy announced: “And the last finalists of Battle of the Bands 2016… are… The New Jersey Fire!” Frank couldn’t help the cry of triumph, that escaped his throat while Pete next to him raised his arms in victory and Patrick on his other side grinned like a Cheshire cat. Of course they all should be impartial as judges and coaches, but let’s be real, that just wasn’t gonna happen when it came to those boys. Andy had barely wrapped it up when Frank was out of his chair and practically running backstage to congratulate them. He found them in their dressing room and barely got a word out before he was enveloped in their group hug. Frank had to fight hard not to burst into tears right then and there. It felt so incredibly familiar! He had ended up between Nate and Manny with Art and Jimmy across from him and he fucking knew this feeling! How many times had they stood like this after an exceptional show? How many times had he been wedged between his friends with Ray’s arm around his shoulders, Bob playing it cool and pretending that he didn’t like such displays of affection and the Way brothers being especially sweaty and smelly from the exertion? This was devastatingly similar and only Tony’s excited voice kept him grounded in the present. How could Karma be so cruel to taunt him with everything he wanted so desperately, but would never have again?


	5. And this vanity I'm breaking lets me live my life like this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note again that this is fiction. 
> 
> I tried to base most of this on facts, but the circumstances of Bob leaving the band and the break-up are completely made up. 
> 
> I'm pretty sure that the creative differences, that were cited in the official statement were a pretty big factor, but I don't believe that's the whole story. So this is my interpretation with a dose of Frerard. 
> 
> Also, let's pretend like the whole family breakfast thing didn't happen, I won't open that can of worms.

The morning after the pretty wild after-show party, Frank found himself heading for the kitchen of Paramour Mansion in order to cure his hangover with coffee. His memory was kinda blurry, but he remembered Brendon and Pete having an air guitar battle on the tables, Tony winning an impromptu round of limbo, a few guys playing Never have I Ever until someone threw up into a potted plant and one of the Vertigo guys blowing Crash Barrier’s bassist in the bathroom. He was getting too old for this shit. Anyway… coffee. It was really fucking early, because he had messed up the alarm of his phone last night. His first training session with NJF was scheduled to start in a little over an hour, so he had a lot of time to waste. Still, he could already hear raised voices in the kitchen. His head was killing him and his stomach wasn’t too happy with last night’s excess, either.

 

“Come on, this isn’t working and you know it! I mean, Nate sings great, but he isn’t you! You were born to front, but he’s so uncomfortable onstage and it shows. I hate it! He drums so much better than me, this idea to fuck with our lineup is fucking mental!”, Tony yelled at someone and Frank could just picture his hands flailing around to emphasize his point. “You know what’s gonna happen if we perform in public like usual!”, Art protested vehemently. “I get that you want to be different from My Chem, I really do, but we need that record deal! We can still make a name for ourselves afterwards!”, Tony tried to convince his boyfriend. It escalated pretty quickly after that.

 

“That won’t work!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I fucking do, it’s been like this every fucking time!”

“Manny and Nate agree with me!”

“Oh yeah? This fucking competition was _my_ idea!”

“What does that have to do with anything!?”

“I told you from the start, we’re only doing it like this! You knew that before!”

“Why the hell do you get to decide that?!”

 

Frank couldn’t stand it anymore and burst through the door. He felt like throwing up, this was just like him and Gerard whenever they had gone at each other. Just a few seconds more and those two would really start to rip each other to shreds before one of them would storm out of the room (Art, most likely) and hide to sulk in rightful indignation. Then they wouldn’t talk for a few days and eventually pretend like nothing had happened. Anyway, Frank really didn’t want to watch history repeat itself and squared his shoulders while he looked at the two flustered wranglers. He didn’t even think before he closed the door behind himself and blurted out the first thing, that came to mind.

 

“When we returned to the studio after The Black Parade, we actually wanted to record a very simple, stripped-down rock album, back to the roots if you will. But Gerard decided halfway through that he wasn’t happy with it and scrapped it. Mikey supported him, as per usual, and Ray didn’t argue as long as he got to create music. But Bob and me had a really hard time coming to terms with it. Then Gee came up with Danger Days. Mikey loved it, Ray didn’t really care that much about the commotion surrounding it, but Bob vetoed it right away. He had written most of the songs up to that point and said that he had worked his ass off and didn’t want it all to go to waste so that we could play dress-up and shoot each other with toy guns.

 

Of course Gerard came out on top, just like always. I actually agreed with Bob to a certain degree, but we had a lot of problems back then, which was why I chose not to make a big deal out of it and hope that the next album would lean more towards my style. Bob, however, is just as pigheaded as Gee, which is why Gerard teamed up with Mikey and decided that he should leave the band. There was a huge fight, it was fucking awful. Bob used to be one of my best friends, but I’ve never talked to him again after that. Well, and then… do you know how I learned that my band was breaking up? Over the fucking phone. It was a short conference call, only a few minutes. I had no idea, it came out of nowhere. Gee couldn’t even tell me in person. I was so fucking shocked, you have no idea. Gerard had decided that he was done and that was it. Just like that. I asked Ray, he didn’t have a say in it either.

 

I lived, breathed and bled that band. I spent a few days in bed with my dogs and wanted to die. Mikey caned in like crazy and Ray locked himself into his studio for hours on end and listened to our songs again and again. Christa told me that he demolished a few thousand bucks of equipment one night and that she found him sobbing in the debris with bloody knuckles and two broken toes.

 

My point is… You are supposed to be a band of brothers. _Always_ , not only when it’s convenient. There are five of you, who are affected by the choices you make. And Art… you can’t make such big decisions on your own, especially not if your friends‘ happiness depends on it. It might cost you more than you’re willing to pay. Maybe even a friendship you thought would last a lifetime. I can’t remember the last time I was around Gerard and didn’t feel tense and uncomfortable. He was in a really shitty place at the time and his health definitely is more important than the band. I get why he needed out, it was absolutely the right thing to do for him, it’s just... we could have taken a break and worked it out, you know? We always did one way or another. He could at least have talked it through with us. But he ended it for good and focused on his solo project and his comics instead. I don’t resent him for quitting, only for the way he did it. It’s not just about you as a person, it’s about you guys as a whole. And everyone should have a say in things, that concern all of you.”

 

Frank only realized that he was shaking when Tony walked up to him and hesitated for a second before he gave him a hug. All the tension drained from his body as he relaxed into the boy’s arms and clung to his shoulders. He had to blink a few times to hold back the tears, that clouded his vision, before they fell. God, he hadn’t talked about any of this in years! And apparently he still wasn’t over it, even though he had tried so hard to pretend that he was. So much for “fake it ‘till you make it”. All the while Art was staring at him in shock, biting his lips and finally dropping his gaze to his feet.

 

For a few long moments all that could be heard were Frank’s harsh breathing and the ticking of a clock on the wall. He was so close to loosing it and crying into Tony’s shoulder. These guys reopened old scars and brought all the shit Frank had suppressed for years to the surface. He still didn’t know how to feel about that. After what felt like an eternity, Art whispered miserably: “Am I really that egocentric?” Tony sighed heavily and took a step back before he cupped his boyfriend’s cheek in his hand, rose to his tip toes and kissed his ski mask over Art’s forehead.

 

“Maybe a little bit sometimes, but that’s okay, none of us are perfect and I love you just the way you are. I think this is more like… you being afraid to take a risk, you know? But we’re gonna get through it together, okay? We’re a team, no matter what. And you never know, maybe it will pay off? We don’t have to play My Chem songs on TV, I think that would be a bit much. But I can just imagine Nate’s face every time he has to practice singing while I get to drum with Josh. He would probably kill to be in my place. We might win like this, but the way we’re doing it right now? Nobody’s happy with it. To me it’s starting to feel like a chore and I don’t know how long we’re gonna last like this. It’s just _wrong_. And you can’t tell me that you aren’t dying to train with Brendon, come on, you’ve tried to sing like him since you were nine years old”, Tony murmured quietly and Frank almost felt like an intruder.

 

It was such an intimate moment to see those two together, it set off a dull ache in his chest. He remembered countless whispered conversations with Gerard in the wee hours of the morning when he had been kept awake by his insomnia and Frank had tried his best to keep the demons in his head at bay. Back when he had been allowed to see him completely unguarded and vulnerable. When he had been the one to hold Gerard through the long and lonely nights on the road. Frank had loved every painfully perfect second of it. And if he had pretended, just for a moment, that it had been more than Gee would ever give him, that was only for him to know. It hadn’t hurt anyone but himself.

 

He was shaken out of his self-inflicted torture when Art sighed and said: “Alright. Fuck it, let’s do it. But I’m gonna blame you if all I ever get to sing is My Chem!” Tony immediately started to jump up and down like and overexcited puppy and squealed loud enough to make Frank’s poor hungover head throb even more. “Are you serious?! Fuck, yeah, can I have your guitar? I’m gonna bring my Phantomatic tomorrow, oh my God, this is so fucking rad!”, the boy yelled at the top of his lungs and darted out of the door. Phantomatic? Interesting.

 

Art hesitated for a second and asked Frank in a quieter voice: “Is that even allowed?” Frank rubbed his temples with his fingertips and cursed the fact that he hadn’t thought to bring his pain killers to work. “Go warm up, I’m gonna talk it through with the others”, he offered weakly. The last thing he heard was Art shouting after his boyfriend to be careful with his guitar and not to jump around with it like a maniac. Finally, silence. Frank dragged himself over to the coffee machine and rested his forehead against the cool surface of the fridge next to it. Just then a loud howl of joy, that sounded suspiciously like Nate, exploded in another spike of pain. He was never, ever drinking again.

Frank was nursing his second cup of coffee when one by one his fellow coaches filed into the kitchen and made a beeline for the huge pot he had prepared. Brendon and Pete looked about as bad as he felt himself, Patrick seemed to be in his usual bitchy morning mood, but Tyler and Josh were definitely enjoying their misery too much. Frank remembered that they had been among the few people, who had known when to stop drinking, hence their wide grins and obnoxiously good mood. Ugh, if he hadn’t given in to Pete, Ray would be sitting in this fucking house with a hangover instead of him. Frank hated that he was such a pushover.

 

“Morning, how are you guys?”, Tyler said cheerily and yanked open the curtains, so that bright sunlight lit up the room. Frank groaned in perfect unison with Brendon and Pete and squeezed his eyes shut. “Ty, you’re _evil!_ ”, Josh cackled gleefully and had the audacity to take a picture of their sorry group around the table. Frank would have tossed his mug at him, but that would have been a waste of coffee. Instead he pulled the hood of his jacket deeper into his face and groaned: “Guys, Art and Tony asked me if they could change their lineup. Tony would play rhythm guitar, Nate would play drums and Art would sing.”

 

For a while the quiet was only disturbed by them slurping coffee and once again the clock on the wall. Finally Pete groaned: “I don’t see why not. There’s nothing in the contract, they can play however they like, as long as it’s the same people.” Brendon shrugged and winced before he reached up to massage his temple. Josh grinned like a Cheshire cat, after all he had had quite a few extra drum sessions with Nate by now and obviously approved of the idea. Tyler didn’t seem to mind either, but Patrick growled: “Wanna hear them play first. We don’t even know if Art can sing.” Jesus, someone was a cranky morning bitch! Frank got to his feet and suggested they go and see for themselves. Halfway to the boy’s training room he could already hear them shred like there was no tomorrow.

 

Just when he opened the door, Jimmy, Nate and Manny lounged into something, that sounded like the drum break of “Angel of Death” and he was left to wonder how those guys could be real once again. Nate was going berserk behind his drum set, Manny made his instrument wail like a fucking guitar god and Jimmy sat lounging in a chair while he delivered the bass line. Art and Tony were busy making out in the corner. Of course. They didn’t even seem to notice their presence and jumped violently when Pete applauded once they were finished. “That was fucking dope, guys, but Grumpycakes here wants to hear all of you perform before he gives your new lineup his blessing”, his friend explained and Frank snickered to himself when Tony made a run for Art’s guitar and his boyfriend tugged down his hoodie before they joined the rest of their band.

 

They were talking quietly, but heatedly amongst each other, Manny’s and Tony’s hands flying through the air to emphasize their points until Art’s shoulders sagged in defeat and he grabbed the mic stand. Only then did Frank realize that they had chosen the exact same positions My Chem had played from the beginning. Lead guitar on the left, rhythm guitar on the right, then bass and vocals in the middle. Just great. And because that in itself wasn’t bad enough already, the guys started playing an intro, that had Frank’s heart clench in his chest and his breath catch in his throat. He had played it a thousand times himself. “Well if you wanted honesty, that’s all you had to say...”

 

Frank could only stare at them. He hardly registered Pete yelling: “Yo, what the fuuuuuuck?!” This was like some kind of weird, fucked up time travel or something. Art sounded like Gerard, it was exactly the same voice! When he closed his eyes for a moment, he could have sworn that he was listening to a recording of one of their old live performances. He was about ready to burst into tears and completely and utterly speechless. The only thing Frank registered with absolute clarity was the desperate longing in his chest. He wanted to be a part of this band so badly it hurt. Eventually the song ended and his fellow coaches gushed over the incredible performance. Only Pete kept his mouth shut and placed a warm, steady hand on his shoulder instead.

 

What he wouldn’t give to see their faces… At least Tony’s. And Art’s. Fuck, all of them. It had become a constant nagging in the back of his mind and he was slowly going crazy over it. Frank took a deep breath and ground out: “If they don’t win this thing, I’ll lose faith in humanity for good.” Pete chuckled quietly next to him and said: “Fuck this show, they’re gonna make it. One way or another, and if it’s the last thing I do.” Frank nodded mutely, his eyes still glued to the five boys in front of him. He watched Pete kick their colleagues out of the room and discuss their song choices for the finale with the band. But try as he might, he found himself unable to focus on his job for the remainder of the day. It was like being trapped in some weird kind of dream, he was walking on clouds and utterly useless. Frank didn’t sleep a wink that night.

 

~~~

 

Wednesday before the finale was an endless marathon of interviews. Altpress, Kerrang!, Fuse, AOL, Billboard and so on. Not just for Frank and his friends this time, but for all their candidates, too, after all everyone wanted material to publish on the winners, whoever that would be. Frank tried to hold back through the entire ordeal (which wasn’t all that hard, since both Pete and Brendon more than made up for it). Most of the questions became repetitive pretty quickly and he had expected most of them, but towards the end of their last session, their interviewer asked them about their relationship with their contestants. Somehow nobody had brought that up until now and for some reason Frank felt the urge to answer.

 

“It’s weird actually. I don’t have kids, but I imagine that I kinda feel like a proud dad about them. I mean, look at how far they all have come in only three weeks! They’re so talented, it’s fucking _crazy,_ so much potential, I’m absolutely sure that all our finalists have what it takes to make it. I would be very surprised if we didn’t hear from them once this is over. Nevertheless… we’ve spent a lot of time together and there’s a few people I consider friends by now. Of course we try to treat everyone equally, but… sometimes you just click with a person, you know?”

 

After that he leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief when it was over. However, somehow the question continued to haunt him for the rest of the day. Like a proud dad. Frank was 34 years old, he could have a family of his own by now if things had gone differently with Jamia and his mess of a relationship with Gerard. If he had married her, would she have given him children? Would he have felt the same fierce protectiveness towards them, that overcame him every time he was with The New Jersey Fire? What would they have been like? Frank kinda wished that he had a son like Tony. The boy was such an awesome person, talented, funny and so much like Frank himself… it didn’t take much to imagine it. Frank hadn’t thought about starting a family in years, but still… it would be nice to have someone to love in his life, who would always be a part of him and wouldn’t abandon him like so many others had.


	6. Well, if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Past suicide attempt

On Thursday morning Frank and Pete had yet another rehearsal with NJF. Not that they really needed it, it was more about fine tuning at this point, because they had learned their songs for the show incredibly quickly once again. However, today the guys were somewhat grumpy, especially Nate, who kept scratching his face, as if someone had put itching powder into his ski mask. None of them looked really comfortable and before long their drummer burst out: “Fucking hell, why did you have to wash these things? What kind of laundry detergent is this? This is fucking torture!” Art scowled at Tony and murmured something about his boyfriend’s mania for cleanliness. The answer was a death glare and a few choice words about how the masks could have been used as anesthetics with how much they had reeked (Frank agreed wholeheartedly). Anyway, Nate demanded very decidedly that they take them off and Frank held his breath with his fingers crossed behind his back.

 

Art was already rolling his eyes and apparently about to launch into yet another lecture about why that absolutely wasn’t gonna happen, when Manny yelled: “I second that!” Art visibly paused and glanced at his brother and boyfriend, who looked just as miserable as the rest of his band. Frank bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself not to fidget. Art closed his eyes for a moment, gritted his teeth and said: “Okay, just… don’t freak out. And don’t tell anybody, okay?” Before Frank could even blink he yanked off his mask and the world stopped spinning for a few agonizing seconds.

 

The others followed suit. Frank felt like he was about to faint. In a way he had been expecting them to look exactly like they did, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he saw his suspicion confirmed. Art was… the same eyes, the same hands, the same smile... everything but the bright purple hair was a perfect copy of Gerard, even the way he bit his bottom lip and clamped his fingers together. Frank couldn’t believe it. His gaze wandered on to Nate, who looked exactly like Bob when they had filmed The Ghost of You, no beard and his blond hair cut short. Manny was busy untangling his long black curls, that made him look like Ray in a Slash wig while Jimmy removed contacts and put on a pair of thick glasses. His short hair was dyed a very dark blue, but his face was Mikey’s, down to the absolutely blank expression. And then there was Tony.

Frank didn’t have words to describe the emotional thunderstorm in his chest when he took in the boy with short, dark green hair, plugs in both ears and a silver piercing in his left eyebrow. God, if they really put their mind to it and wore matching wigs and turtlenecks, it would be like looking into a mirror! Fuck! Frank didn’t even consciously decide to move, but he found himself walking towards the boys and stop right in front of Tony. He still didn’t know what to say, all he could do was take it all in and wonder whether he was dreaming or not. In the end it was Manny, who blurted out: “This is even weirder than I thought it would be!”, which was probably the understatement of the year.

That was when Art embraced his boyfriend from behind and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His sparkling hazel eyes shone with adoration and Tony leaned into the caress, smiling softly to himself. Frank felt like he had been doused with ice water. Spending time with these guys had brought back loads of fond and not so fond memories during the past weeks, but this, right here, was more than he could take. Seeing Tony with Art… he could remember so many times when Gee had done exactly the same to him and the knowledge that it would never, ever happen again had his heart clench in his chest. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room and the urge to run became overwhelming. Frank had to get out, as quickly and as far away as possible. Without a word he turned around and fled down the hall, through the backdoor and into the garden. The estate was pretty big, there were plenty of places to hide, especially beneath the trees around the basketball court.

A few minutes later he collapsed against a tree trunk and struggled too keep his tears from falling. God, it was so fucking unfair! Even after all those years, Gerard was always on his mind and Frank had kinda gotten used to it, had almost accepted it. But that moment back at the house… Seeing everything he had ever wanted right in front of him, but so painfully far out of his reach was incredibly cruel. And he had had it! For a few blissful years he had been with the man he loved and played in his favorite band. Until it had all gone to hell in a hand basket…

 

_The first time he saw him at a basement show. Just a pale guy with greasy hair, a Misfits hoodie and a bottle of beer in his hand. But he smiled at the lanky kid with thick glasses next to him and for some reason Frank wasn’t able to look away. His sparkling eyes and crooked teeth followed him into his dreams that night and so many nights after._

 

_The first time he heard their demo. It was at the Eyeball house and he was blown away by the passion and raw emotion in Gee’s voice. He wasn’t the greatest of singers, but Frank had a feeling that he could be a terrific front man._

 

_Their first live gig. Frank was standing on a chair in the back of the room and couldn’t tear his eyes away. Gerard was mesmerizing, shitfaced drunk and breathtakingly beautiful. That was the moment Frank realized that he was in too deep already._

 

 _Their first time in the studio, Frank messed around with the camera and stole the tape afterwards, so that nobody would realize that there was nothing but Gerard on that day’s tape. The moment they asked him if he wanted in. Gee beamed at him with so much joy and giddy excitement, that Frank couldn't have said no, even if he had wanted to._  
  
Warped Tour 2004. They were high as a kite when they laid on the roof of their van together and looked at the stars. Gerard told him that Bert McCracken had kissed him only an hour ago. Frank felt the sudden urge to kick in the guy's teeth. Gee's eyes were almost black in the moonlight when he asked him if he had ever kissed a man before. Frank shrugged and said that he hadn't. He didn’t know _how it happened, but suddenly there were hot, slightly chapped lips on his and everything was right in the world._  
  
The next _time they had a motel room to themselves, neither of them used the bed for sleeping. The morning after_ _Brian gave them an exasperated look and Ray sighed: "Boysss, seriously?", when Frank could barely sit down for breakfast. A guy on the table next to theirs_ _made a comment about “fucking emo fags” and Gerard’s face turned to stone._  
  
It was different after that. Ge _e_ _always made a point of not doing coupley things in public and kept their relationship strictly behind closed doors. The first time Frank whispered "I love you" after another round of spectacular sex, Ge_ _rard_ _didn't reply and pretended to be asleep. His racing heartbeat gave him away, though, and Frank tried to convince himself that it didn't hurt as badly_ _as it did. It would be weeks before Gerard said it back._

 

_Warped 2005. So much adrenaline, so much excitement. This time there was no booze for Gerard, no drugs, no Bert McCracken, so he found another outlet. Frank never knew what exactly brought it on, but Gee was all over him on stage and he treasured every single second of it. They called it “stage gay” and their fans fucking loved it. Frank was happier than he had ever been. He knew that Gerard was afraid of coming out, but as long as he could be himself when they played, it would be enough._

 

_And then there was Paramour Mansion. With The Black Parade came a lot of thinking and life-altering decisions. Gerard broke up with his girlfriend. Frank was over the moon. For a few blissful, perfect days he believed that he would finally get what he had wanted for so long. But when he showed Gee a perfect little house back home in Jersey on the internet, all he got was a panicked expression and a hasty retreat. That night Gerard admitted in the heavy room that he wasn’t ready for more and wouldn’t risk everything they had achieved for it. They had been together for two years. Frank was devastated. He felt used and deceived, Gee was the single most important thing in his life and being told that their relationship meant so little to him felt like being hit in the solar plexus. He yelled at him that he deserved better, stormed out, drove into the city and got shitfaced drunk until Ray and Bob found him almost passed out in a rundown bar sometime around three in the morning. He had heard the apologies and promises a million times before. And just like always, Frank eventually caved, took him back and told himself that he would take what he could get and that I would have to be enough._

 

_Projekt Revolution. Frank couldn’t believe it when Ray told him that he had seen Gee with Lindsey Ballato. He followed him the next time he left in unusually clean clothes and eyeliner and felt his heart break when he watched them make out behind a merch tent. The pain was overwhelming, he could barely breathe around it and had to bite back a cry before he stumbled back to their bus to hide in his bunk. Hours later he was still shaking with quiet sobs. Angry voices and a loud thump from the front of the bus made Frank pause. Later Ray would tell him that Bob had punched Gee in the face and yelled at him to at least have the decency to break up with Frank before he went and fucked someone else._

 

 _The next show they played was fucking horrible. Bob kept glowering at Gerard, Ray carefully avoided any interaction with their lead singer and Frank stayed_ _on_ _his side of the stage, as well. He couldn’t even look at hi_ _s ‘boyfriend’_ _. Until Gee walked up to him and kissed him square on the mouth. In front of thousands of people. That had never happened before. Frank’s arms suddenly forgot how_ _to hold a guitar and hung limply by his side until instinct kicked in and he grabbed Gerard’s shirt to pull him closer. What he could get would never be enough. He would take it anyway._

 

_The following weeks were the very worst kind of roller coaster. In many ways they were closer than ever. And even though he hated himself for it, Frank couldn’t deny that he still had hope. But Gerard didn’t break up with Lindsey, on the contrary. Frank was 100% certain that he was sleeping with her. He stayed out later and later and came back reeking of her perfume. One night Frank found red lipstick on his cock. If he had any self-respect left, he would have kicked him out of his bunk then and there. Instead he turned around and winced when Gee pushed inside without prep. He couldn't lose him. Even if the list of things that only belonged to them grew shorter by the day. Luckily Gerard was distracted enough not to notice his tears and fell asleep with his arms around him while Frank cried into his pillow._

 

 _He would never forget Ray’s face when he told him about the wedding, a mix of fury, worry and pity in his eyes. Frank’s world ground to a halt and shattered into a million shards of glass. He couldn’t believe it, he refused to take it seriously. It had to be a misunderstanding, a rumor, Gee would never do that to him! But an hour later he s_ _tood_ _behind a few amps and heard him say “I do”. Frank only caught a glimpse of him slipping a ring on her finger before he made a run for it. He found a guy, whom he knew to supply quite a few people on tour with various substances. He bought enough coke to knock himself out and sat in their bus, trying to cut it into straight lines with shaking hands and tears streaming down his face. He ripped a page out of Gerard’s sketchbook (yet another portrait of himself)_ _to tear it in half and roll it up. Frank just wanted a few moments of peace, he needed his head to shut the fuck up and to forget about the fact that the man he loved more than anything had just married someone else. After mere_ weeks _of dating! Didn’t their three years mean anything to him?! Just before he could snort the first line, the door slid open and Ray stormed inside with a frantic expression on his face. “God, Frankie, please don’t!”, his friend yelled, yanked him away from the table and wrapped him in a bear hug. That was the moment the flood gates burst open completely and Frank broke down. He clawed at Ray’s broad shoulders and sobbed his broken heart out. He couldn’t remember ever crying like this, not when his father had left, not when his beloved dog Sinatra had died and not when Gee had rejected him at Paramour Mansion. It hurt so fucking much, he couldn’t bear it and clung to his friend like a drowning man to a lifeline. Only days later did he realize that the amount of coke he had bought might have been enough to not only silence his brain, but his heart as well. The frightening part was that he couldn’t quite decide whether he wished that Ray had found him just a few minutes later or not._

 

_The next months passed in a blur of alcohol, one-night stands and channeling his agony into desperate screams and angry lyrics. Leathermøuth was literally the only thing, that kept him going. He didn’t take care of himself at all, gained weight, grew a beard and didn’t bother taking his medication, which was why his stomach acted up like it hadn’t in years. It was horrible, he stumbled from day to day, trying and failing to fill the void in his chest. Frank was still in his zombie like state when his phone rang about a year after that day and a familiar call-ID nearly gave him a heart attack._

 

_The first time he saw him again was horribly tense and awkward. They walked on egg shells around each other while Gerard looked at him like a kicked puppy and Frank waited for an apology, that never came. Somehow they managed to get their shit together and go back to the studio, but the chemistry, the special spark was long gone. Bob did most of the songwriting when it became apparent that their old way of getting things done wasn’t working any more, but it still wasn’t right._

 

_Then, one day, Gerard strode into the studio and announced that they were gonna start over. He envisioned outlaws in the desert, a mind-controlling dictatorship, ray guns, crazy, colorful costumes and a huge comic epos to go with it. Bob blew up like a bomb. He yelled at Gerard that he couldn’t just go and order them around without even asking for their opinion. Mikey tried to reason with him and pointed out that what they had so far just wasn’t working. That led to Bob roaring that the only reason why things had gone to shit was that their lead singer was an arrogant, spineless, cheating bastard, who only cared about himself, didn’t give a shit about other people’s feelings and believed that the whole world revolved around him. And that their bassist ran after him like a lost puppy and didn’t have the balls to tell him off when it was necessary. Needless to say, things ended pretty badly. A part of Frank was grateful and couldn’t help but agree, but he kept his mouth shut, long since drained of the energy to fight._

 

_Eventually they got back on track. A new drummer was found, the record started to take shape and one night Frank and Gerard were the only ones left at the studio. It was the very first time that they were alone in a room for an extended period of time. The tension was suffocating. Out of nowhere Frank was pushed against the wall and kissed within an inch of his life. He was too shocked to respond right away and stood rooted to the spot while his brain went into overdrive. Gee whispered: “Are we still good?” and he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to laugh, cry or punch him in the face. In the end he did neither and kissed him back. He was never gonna learn._

 

_Danger Days wasn’t Frank’s style, not at all, but he went with it anyway, because it got him Gerard back. More or less. Gee made it explicitly clear from the beginning that he wouldn’t break up with Lindsey for him. Frank hadn’t expected it anyways, he had given up on his dream of a future with Gerard a long time ago. At least that was what he told himself. He was an empty shell, faking smiles for the cameras, jumping around onstage and clinging to every second of Gee’s attention he could get. Ray and James were the only ones, who saw how much he was hurting, but Frank told them again and again that he was okay. As okay as he could possibly be. And then the tour was over, they went back to their lives and a sudden phone call ended it all. Gerard and Frank were the last ones on the line. “What about us, Gee?”, Frank murmured and already knew the answer. “It was never gonna work, Frankie”, he replied after a few beats of uncomfortable silence. Frank threw his phone against the wall._

 

~~~

 

Frank jumped violently when something touched his shoulder and he returned to the present. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”, Tony murmured bashfully, ski mask firmly in place again. Frank shook his head and quickly wiped his eyes before he managed to say: “It’s alright, sorry I didn’t hear you.” The boy nodded and carefully set a plate of sandwiches and two bottles of water on the ground before he sat down as well. Frank managed a grateful smile. He hadn’t even realized how long he had been sitting out here, but he was really glad he didn’t have to face the others for lunch break. This was one of those days he should have spent in bed. They ate in silence and watched when a few guys came out to once again try and beat Tyler at basketball, which wasn’t gonna happen anytime soon.

 

Suddenly Tony took a deep breath and whispered: “Is it the way I look?” What?! Frank hadn’t even considered how his hasty retreat had to look to the boys. Fuck, he felt like shit! “God, no! It’s… seeing you and Art together… looking like Gerard and I.” There, he had said it. Frank had never told anybody but his therapist about his relationship with his former best friend. “Oh… so the rumors aren’t just rumors after all?”, Tony asked him carefully. Frank snorted a cynic laugh and said: “Of course not. Don’t tell me you bought that anti-homophobia campaign bullshit.” To his surprise the young man next him didn’t laugh. Instead he whispered: “I’m so sorry.” Frank looked up and met sincere hazel eyes, that were so similar to his own. “What for?”, he asked a little bewildered. Tony smiled sadly before he murmured: “That it ended badly.”

 

Frank had to fight hard to keep his composure. Nobody had ever outright said that to him and he really didn’t know how to take it. “How long?”, Tony wanted to know. What would it hurt to tell him? The cat was out of the bag anyway. “Eight, nine years? God, I loved that guy”, he sighed wearily. “You still do, don’t you?”, the boy asked him quietly. Frank could only stare at his hands and shake his head yes. That wasn’t even a question, his feelings for Gerard were the only constant in his life. “Is that why you broke up with Jamia?” Of course he would know about that. “In a way. She ended it. I just couldn’t love her like I loved him”, he explained with a wistful sigh. It could have been so easy if he had never met Gee, he would have a bunch of kids and dogs and a white picket fence by now. He might not have become a musician, but maybe something simpler would have fulfilled him, as well. Frank had thought before that he might have been a decent mailman or something.

 

“I get that. There’s no one else once you’ve found your other half”, Tony said beside him. Frank let out a sound, that was half sob and half chuckle. He’d drink to that if he had anything stronger than water. A drink sounded damn good right now, actually. He had been so tense during the last days, Frank was about ready to burst. The boy took his hand, squeezed it and he felt his shoulders drop. It was weird, he hadn’t even known Tony for a month, but the kid calmed him down and understood him better than some of his best friends. However, once his walls came down, he was overwhelmed by the weight of his emotions. It all came rushing back to him, the heartbreak, the disappointment, the betrayal. Frank bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He would not cry in front of a boy, who could almost be his son!

 

Luckily Tony’s phone buzzed with a text and broke the weird tension. Apparently Altpress had published their interview with The New Jersey Fire already and one of the other guys had sent Tony the link. He held up his phone for Frank to read it with him and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been so grateful for those scribblers. He skimmed through the preamble until a name caught his eye and he felt his heart miss a beat. “Anthony Priccolo? That’s my mother’s maiden name, maybe we’re related?”, he mused out loud. It really wouldn’t surprise him if the boy was some kind of distant cousin, that would at least somewhat explain their crazy resemblance. Frank was Italian, which was pretty much synonymous with a huge family.

 

To his surprise Tony went very quiet next to him and fumbled with his phone for a while before he showed him a picture of four young women. The quality wasn’t the best and judging by their clothes and hair it had to be about twenty years old, but there was something… familiar about one of them. Frank wracked his brain, her wise brown eyes and kind smile definitely rang a bell, even if he couldn't put a finger on it. "That's my mom, Maia Priccolo", Tony explained and pointed at the woman Frank couldn't stop staring at. Wait... Maia... A memory flashed before his eyes, blurry and vague, but there were definitely a flash of creamy skin, heavy-lidded eyes and tight heat wrapped around his cock.  
  
Oh God... Frank's brain struggled to make the obvious conclusion. It had been his freshman year of high school, his first real party, the first time he had tried pot and gotten thoroughly wasted. The night he had lost his virginity. Sometime in late winter, maybe February or something... Which was roughly nine months away from Halloween. Oh _God_ , this couldn't be what he was thinking! How... How was that possible?! Hadn't they used protection? It had been only once! What... Why... Oh fucking hell, he had a _kid_! Frank simply couldn't wrap his head around it, he had still been a teenager himself at the time! Younger than Tony was now! Ever so slowly Frank turned around to face his... Oh _fuck_... his son. He swallowed hard and ground out: "I met her at a party."  
  
Suddenly Tony dropped his phone, let out a choked sob and threw himself into Frank's arms. His shoulders were shaking violently as he wrapped both arms around Frank's waist and buried his face in his hoodie. Frank just sat there for a few beats, unable to move and shocked to the core. He had always wanted a family of his own, a big one, since he had been a single child and there had only been his mom and him after his parents’ divorce. But he never would have thought that it would happen like this and... Holy shit, he was a father! Ever so slowly he hugged Tony back and pulled him closer until he kind of ended up in his lap and curled up in his embrace. A responsible little voice in his head whispered about a paternity test to be sure, but Frank dismissed it. Tony was his. He just knew.

 

It was odd, the boy was already eighteen years old, an adult in the eyes of the law. God, Frank had missed his entire childhood! There had been a first step, a first word, first day of school and he hadn't been there! Why had Maia kept them apart? He wished he could ask her. Yes, he had been young, but he would have done anything to be there for his son! That wasn't even a question! He knew only too well how hard it was to grow up without a father figure, but his dad had at least been a part of his life, even if he hadn't lived with them anymore. Frank pressed his lips into Tony's hair and held on for dear life. He would do everything he could to make up for all those lost years. That was the very least his son deserved from him.  
  
"But... Priccolo? Was your mom a cousin of mine or something?", he managed to say after what seemed like an eternity of Tony sobbing into his shoulder and clinging to him as if he were afraid that Frank would disappear any moment. His son let go of him reluctantly, took off his mask and fumbled for a tissue to wipe his eyes and blow his nose. It was kinda awkward, none of them knew how to act around the other. Eventually Tony sat down next to Frank again and leaned against the tree, apparently a little ashamed of his outburst. Frank took his hand and squeezed it. "It's okay. This is a lot to take in, but we're gonna figure it out somehow. And... now that I know that you're m-my son… I think I’m… happy? God, it's fucking crazy, but... I want this", he murmured, because it was pretty obvious that Tony needed to hear it.  
  
Finally, his son cleared his throat and said: " I don't know anything about mom's family, but she was born in Greece and they came to the States only a few months before I was born, I doubt that she was related to you." Well, that was a relief, this whole thing was already confusing enough as it was. "Oh, do you have a middle name?", Frank asked him and realized just how much he didn't know about his own child. Tony chuckled and answered: "Frank." Of course. How had nobody noticed that on the application form?! "So, Anthony Frank Priccolo. God, my parents are gonna flip their shit!", Frank stated and already envisioned his mother's excitement at the prospect of having a grandchild. Tony gaped at him and blurted out: "You mean I get to meet your family?!" Frank smiled and corrected him: "They are your family, too. My dad got married again, my mom shares a flat with seven cats, then there's my aunt and two cousins. You're gonna love them." Tony looked like he would burst into tears again any moment. "I've never had a family of my own", he whispered quietly and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. Frank smiled at him, wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders and pulled him closer. Wish as he might, he could never bring back all the years he had missed out on, but at least he could give him this.  
  
Suddenly it hit him and his breath caught in his throat. Tony’s stunning resemblance to him made sense, now that he knew that he was actually his son, but… He could barely speak, but managed to ask: “What about the others?” It was absolutely impossible that his gut feeling was right, but lately the odds hadn’t been all that trustworthy and he was about ready to believe anything until proven wrong. Tony shrugged and kicked a pine cone across the clearing in front of them. “We never got their mothers to admit anything, but… come on – Arthur Gerard Lee. James Michael Lee. Manuel Raymond Ortiz. Nathaniel Robert Cory. How much more obvious could it be? The only thing that doesn’t add up is the fact that you guys didn’t even know each other back then. I mean, Gerard was in New York, Ray in Wayne, Bob was in Florida and Mikey and you were still in high school. But we look exactly like the five of you, our personalities are very similar from what we can tell and I would bet that the others are fathers and sons, as well. It’s fucking crazy and I won’t even start on the fact that we all share the same birthday, sometimes it feels like a fucking freak show!”, he answered eventually. Frank felt about ready to puke.


	7. What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems?

“There you are! Guys, over here!”, Manny yelled a few steps away and within seconds the rest of The New Jersey Fire joined them under their tree. “Frank, are you okay?”, Art asked him quietly while his worried eyes scanned his face. Frank tried a smile, that came out more like a grimace. “Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve just been told that I have a son and when I look at you guys, I might not be the only one and… this is the ultimate mindfuck, I just… I can’t”, he stammered and bit his tongue before he worked himself up even more. “Wait, so you just… told him?”, Jimmy asked Tony with a frown. “He saw my last name in that interview and asked about it, which is why I showed him the picture of our mothers and he recognized my mom”, Tony explained with a huge grin. He was positively buzzing with excitement and Frank couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

 

“So how did you meet her?”, Art wanted to know and Frank found himself unexpectedly at the center of attention. “Uhmm… yeah. I was shitfaced drunk”, he offered half-heartedly. Really not a “How I Met Your Mother” story he was proud to tell. “Sounds very promising”, Nate chuckled and caught an elbow to the ribs and a good-natured eye roll from Manny before Tony threw his empty water bottle at his head. “There really isn’t much I can tell you. It was my very first party, Catholic school boy, mind you, I had a few beers and someone offered me a joint, which wasn’t my best idea that night. I had never seen her before, she was this beautiful woman and I was a short, greasy Italian rat with a baby face and a horrible haircut. All my friends tried to get lucky with her, but she walked right up to me and dragged me into the next bedroom. I barely caught her name and she was gone when I woke up around noon the next day. I’ve never met her again, but it got me a few hickeys, a hangover from hell and quite a reputation. My mom wasn’t happy, I was grounded for an entire month”, Frank said and shook his head. Man, it was so long ago and he had been such a brat!

 

“Okay, so if you really are Tony’s father, does that mean that there’s a chance that Ray could be...”, Manny started to say, staring anxiously and almost pleading at Frank. Yeah, that was the million dollar question. “Only one way to find out – could you send me that picture?”, Frank murmured and fumbled for his phone with sweaty hands. Jesus Christ, he really didn’t know how his friends would take this, they were all married and Ray even had a kid! How would their wives react to this mess if his gut feeling should be right? Frank took a deep breath when his phone buzzed and opened the group chat with his friends.

 

He hesitated for a moment and typed: “I know it sounds random, but did any of you have sex with one of these girls in February of 1997?” James was the first to answer very eloquently with “Wtf”, which was one way to put it. However, the next moment both Gerard and Mikey wrote “the left one”, Frank choked on his own spit and James responded with a “Wtf” in caps and a million exclamation points, which summed it up pretty nicely. Frank didn’t know who did it, but his phone buzzed with an incoming conference call. This was gonna be the weirdest conversation ever, which was really saying something in their case.

 

Gerard: Where the hell did you find that photo?

Frank: Long story.

Mikey: What the hell, Gee!?

Gerard: What!? She dragged me into a bathroom stall, I was drunk!

Frank: I’m confused.

Mikey: I was on my way home from school and she jumped me out of fucking nowhere! I don’t even remember what happened, but I woke up in my bedroom with a killer headache the next morning!

Gerard: So that’s why she kinda smelled like home…

Frank: What the hell!

James: This is seriously the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard.

Frank: Trust me, it gets weirder.

Mikey: Fuck, I’m gonna be sick.

Gerard: Thanks, bro.

Mikey: Oh God, shut up!

Ray: Guys, what the fuck did I just hear?!

Frank: Oh, hi!

Mikey: Oh my God, please tell me you didn’t fuck her, too!

Ray: What?! No! But… uhm… well, the one on the right.

James: You gotta be kidding me.

Frank: Just great.

Gerard: Which…

Frank: The short one in the middle.

James: I swear to God… _in 199_ _7_ _?!_ Frank, you were _fif_ _teen!_

Frank: Look, just… There’s something you should know. I’m at the Paramour, just get here asap, okay? And don’t bring your wives.

Mikey: _What?!_

Ray: You’re freaking me out, dude, this isn’t funny.

Frank: Just shut up and move your asses! One more thing… does anyone still talk to Bob?

Silence.

Gerard: What the hell does he have to do with it?

Frank: Just answer the fucking question.

Mikey: No! Why would I?

Frank: Oh, I don’t know, maybe because he used to be in our band and he was one of our best friends, but other than that…

Gerard snorted derisively.

Ray: I tried to call him for his birthday the year after, but I didn’t get through. He either has a new number or he blocked me. Then the Christmas card I had sent him came back. I don’t even know where he lives now.

James: Cortez might know, they were pretty close.

Frank bit his lips and whispered: “Just hurry up”, before he ended the call and closed his eyes for a moment. This was so surreal, he felt like he was caught up in a dream, it was almost an out-of-body experience. Next he tried to call Bob, but as Ray had predicted, the number was inactive. So he rang up Matt Cortez, their guitar tech of many years, who had been best buds with their former drummer for years. Frank had always gotten along really well with him, they were still texting every now and then, even though they hadn’t seen each other in a while. But when Frank asked him for Bob’s phone number, his friend scoffed and growled: “What the hell for? There’s a reason why he doesn’t want to talk to you guys anymore! Why do you even care all of a sudden?” Frank pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course it wouldn’t be easy. “Listen, just… tell him to ring me up, okay? And I’ll send you a picture, could you show it to him and ask if it rings a bell? Please? I’ll owe you, it’s really important”, Frank pleaded with him. Matt was quiet for a few long moments before he sighed and murmured: “Whatever the fuck you want, Iero”, and hung up on him. That probably could have gone better.

 

When Frank looked up from his phone, he met the anxious eyes of four young guys, who stared at him as if he had the answers to all their problems. He just wanted a fucking drink and somewhere quiet to get his shit together. “I didn’t get through to Bob, but the others are coming over. And they all recognized one of your mothers”, he said. The reactions couldn’t have been more different. Nate sighed and stared at his feet, Manny’s face was lit up by the brightest smile and Art and Jimmy exchanged extremely weirded out, borderline horrified looks. Frank really did empathize with them, they seemed to be twins, but only half-brothers, with brothers for fathers. Jesus Christ, it sounded like a script of the very worst kind of trash TV!

 

Frank’s musings were interrupted by another buzz of his phone. He didn’t recognize the number and tried not to get his hopes up, but he still held his breath for a moment before he accepted the call and murmured: “Iero, hello?” A raspy voice answered: “Where the hell did you find that photo?” “Bob?”, he asked just to be sure. He barely recognized his voice, did he have a cold? “Who else, dickhead”, came the reply. Frank couldn’t help the timid smile, he hadn’t even realized how much he had missed that bastard. “You sound like shit, Bryar”, he said casually. Even if he asked whether their former drummer was okay, he would never get an honest answer, that guy had never known when to slow down and take care of himself. Bob laughed gravelly and deadpanned: “You don’t say. But how the fuck did you find a picture of Corinna?!”

 

“Corinna?”, Frank asked just to make sure he had heard the name correctly. Nate buried his face in his hands, his entire body shaking violently and Manny rubbed soothing circles on his back. Frank took a deep breath. “That’s a very long story. Where are you?”, he asked his former band mate. “L.A.”, was the immediate reply. What the hell? Bob had never been the big city type! “Come on, Frank! I’ve been looking for her for nineteen fucking years!”, he pushed with more than a little desperation in his voice. “Uhm… can you just… come to the Paramour? It’s a long ass story and... I don’t even know where to start”, Frank stammered while he tried to stomach that new bit of information. “Yeah, whatever. But don’t you dare give me any more bullshit excuses once I get there!”, Bob growled before he hung up and Frank was left even more confused than before.

 

That was when a pair of footsteps drew closer and Pete exclaimed: “Here you are! Our next session started half an hour ago! Frank, are you okay?” Frank groaned and hit his head against the tree. This was the last straw, he couldn’t deal with any more today. “Hey man, I’m sorry, but this is the craziest day ever”, he sighed wearily. “Okaaay, anything I can help with?”, Pete wanted to know, his voice heavy with bewilderment and curiosity. Frank chuckled to himself. Not really. He put an arm around his son’s shoulders and told his fellow coach: “Looks like I’m Tony’s father.” Damn, it sounded even weirder if he said it himself.

 

Pete stood there, gaping at them and obviously waiting for one of them to tell him it was a joke. “You’re shitting me, right?”, he choked out after a while. Jimmy’s raised eyebrow said it all. “What the fuck, man!”, Pete gasped and looked like he would pass out any minute. “Look, there won’t be any more rehearsing today, okay?”, Frank told him and Pete nodded mutely. “Y-Yeah, totally. Imma just…”, he trailed off and pointed towards the house. Frank managed a smile. “Okay. And Pete? Don’t tell anyone”, he begged him. His friend let out a bout of slightly hysteric, incredulous laughter. “Dude, as if anybody would believe me! I need a fucking drink…”, he murmured before he stalked off towards the mansion.

 

Only then did Frank realize what a field day the media would have if word got out. They would rip them to shreds, none of them would get even a modicum of peace for weeks! Whatever they did, they had to keep it under wraps, at least until the show was over. The boys had to win this because of their talent, not because of their family affairs. Suddenly his phone buzzed with a text from Mikey, informing him that his friends were almost here. Oh God, he really didn’t know how to tell them, but he still picked himself up and made for the service entrance of the estate.

 

He only had to wait for a few minutes until first Ray’s Corvette and then Gerard’s Mini pulled into the drive. Frank felt a pang of guilt when Ray approached him with one of his big smiles and pulled him into a heartfelt hug. He had only seen him twice since he had come to L.A., the day he had arrived and on his birthday almost three weeks ago, God, Frank was a horrible friend! “Good to see you, man”, he murmured into Ray’s shoulder and turned around to face the Way brothers. Mikey greeted him just like always and he gritted his teeth through a quick and extremely tense bro hug from Gerard. However, just as he steeled himself to fill them in, a taxi stopped outside the still open gate and heavy footsteps on asphalt preceded the arrival of their former drummer. Alright. Time to face the music.

 

~~~ Bob’s POV ~~~

 

Bob Bryar took a deep breath and waited for the black dots in his vision to disappear. By now he really should know better than to jump out of a car like a normal, healthy person, since he was neither. Stupid heart. The service entrance was open and he slowly made for the gate. It had been six years since the last time he had seen Frank. How would he act around him? How was _he_ supposed to behave around his former band mate? He had minded his own business and had had coffee in a small diner when Cortez had rung him up and sent him a picture, that very nearly would have given him a heart attack. Bob couldn’t believe that he might have found her, after all those years, he had stared at it all the way here. Alright then. It was only Frank, right? He had always been his best friend within the band, him and Ray. A deep breath, a few more steps around the corner and Bob froze.

 

It was like the very worst kind of déjà-vu. Frank hadn’t said anything about anybody else coming here on the phone and Bob hadn’t been prepared to face his former band mates. Alright, he was actually kinda happy to see Ray and Frank, but he could have done without meeting the Way brothers ever again. If it hadn’t been for the picture of Corinna, the woman who had haunted his dreams for almost two decades, he would have turned around and left right then and there, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and look over the four men in front of him instead. They were all mature adults. Hopefully.

 

Ray hadn’t changed at all. He was in a simple gray shirt and jeans, his fro was flatter than Bob had ever seen it and he was wearing glasses, but his gobsmacked expression, that slowly turned into a sincere smile, was achingly familiar. He didn’t want to admit it, but God, he had missed him. Ray had been the kind of friend, who was always there for you, no matter what, who was the voice of reason when you weren’t thinking straight and who never gave up on you. Bob almost would have caved and called him when he had sent him a Christmas card the year he had been kicked out, but the wounds had been too fresh and too deep, which was why he had sent it back and blocked all their numbers, one by one. Maybe he shouldn’t have. But what use was it crying over spilled milk?

Then there was Frank, who appeared slightly shell-shocked. He was pale, his hair looked like he had repeatedly run his hands through it, strands sticking up in every direction. Despite the heat he was wearing a hoodie and long skinny jeans, but Bob still caught sight of quite a lot new ink poking out from under his clothes, that definitely hadn’t been there the last time he had seen him. Had the little shit always been so short? Probably. It was so tempting to tease him about it and try to get a rise out of him, their bickering and the pranks really had been the best part of their friendship.

 

However, as his gaze wandered on to Mikey and Gerard, he gritted his teeth and literally felt his mood turn sour. Mikey was sporting some stubble, that still didn’t pass for an actual beard. The sides of his head were shaved under a dodgers hat, that matched his muscle shirt, basketball shorts and expensive looking trainers. Jesus Christ, if anybody had told him in 2004 that Mikey would run around in sportswear and hipster sunglasses, he would have died of laughter! His elder brother, on the other hand, was the polar opposite: longish brown hair with a tiny little bit of gray around the temples, a bit of stubble, a well-worn olive jacket and jeans. Gee looked like a normal guy, apparently his days as a rock star had long since passed. He had put on a little weight, too, and looked a hell of a lot healthier now than he had on the few pictures Bob had seen of him with the red hair. Danger Days. He still considered it garish, over the top and absolutely not their style.

They were staring at him. Their expressions varied from surprise to concern, shock and – in case of Mikey and Gerard – thinly veiled disgust. Yes, Bob looked like death warmed over and he knew it, thank you very much. It was written all over their faces, he didn’t need to be reminded of the unkempt beard, bloodless lips and grayish skin he saw every time he looked into a mirror.

In the end it was Mikey, who broke the silence and growled: “What the hell is he doing here?” Oh come on, kid, get over it! “I was invited”, Bob replied, trying not to flinch at his raspy voice. Gerard crossed his arms and scowled at Frank, obviously pissed about his presence. Of course those two wouldn’t make this easy. A small, treacherous part of him hoped for Frank or Ray to shut them up, but the only sounds came from a few birds singing in the trees and the distant hum of traffic. And all of a sudden Bob was pissed. Really fucking pissed. Had he honestly expected that they would set their differences aside and everything would be sunshine and roses? He should have known. Corinna was the only reason why he was here, but what did he have to offer her? He was broken, old, ugly and fat. Even if he should be lucky enough to find her, there was no way she’d want him and Bob knew that he wouldn’t be able to take it if she found him as hideous as he felt. He was so done with this shit, took one last look at his former band mates and shook his head.

 

“To think that there was a time when I would have taken a bullet for any of you and thought that we were friends for life. But oh well… Only as long as I kept my mouth shut, huh? Sorry if I didn’t want to scrap my work for your stupid Japanese dance party! And sorry if I couldn't condone one of my best friends being treated like shit! Someone had to say it! I just wouldn’t have thought that you’d kick me out just like that, because you couldn't deal with that much honesty! But then again… I never would have thought that I would end up in hospital, not knowing whether I would live to see the end of the month, and there wouldn’t be a single word from you, either. Band of brothers my ass!

 

By the way, thanks for never saying anything against people hating on me or telling the true story of how I was kicked out. I do so appreciate a daily dose of hate comments. Guess that doesn’t concern you in any way, I get that you moved on. And I have no idea why you even wanted me here today, I should have known better. Cortez told me not to get my hopes up. He’s one of very few people, who still give a shit about me. By the way, why was it Patrick, who told me about those Jersey Fire guys, huh? Why wasn’t it you, _Frankie?_ Yeah, I was there last week and I saw them play”, he ranted, but bit his tongue before he blew up for good.

 

Why was he even wasting his breath? Already he felt his heart racing in his chest and a few beads of sweat on his forehead from the exertion. God, he never would have thought that it would end like this one day. He had bled for this band, more than any of them! The broken ankle at the beginning, the snapped tendons in his wrist, the burnt leg, the blood infection and a ton of Frank-inflicted injuries. It still hurt that he had been cast aside without a second thought, even after all those years.

 

With a heavy sigh he buried his shaking hands in his pockets and growled: “Doesn’t matter anyway, the quacks give me another year, two at most. Don’t bother coming to the funeral”, before he turned around and made for the road. He finally had to accept that My Chem was over and done with, no matter what it had meant to him. Just like any chance he might have had with Corinna. He decided then and there to go pack his stuff and catch the next flight back home to Tennessee. Fuck this ridiculous show, there was nothing for him here. Another year, two at most. He really hoped that he wouldn’t have to wait that long. Maybe he would use one of his guns to put himself out of his misery before it became unbearable.


	8. Things are better if I stay

Suddenly two pairs of footsteps came running after him and before he knew it, Bob was turned around and assaulted by an armful of Frank while Ray wrapped his arms around them both. Their unexpected closeness hit him square in the chest and he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to keep his composure. It had been so fucking long since anybody but his mom had given him a hug. Yes, he still had friends, but most of them didn’t live in the woods somewhere in Tennessee. He had become a loner and didn’t know how to deal with this at all.

 

Frank clung to him like the spider monkey he had always been and murmured again and again how sorry he was. Ray rested his forehead against his temple and whispered: “I’m so sorry, man… Please believe me, I had no idea. I would have been there if I had known that you were so sick!” Bob swallowed hard and tried to keep his breathing even. It would have meant so fucking much to him to have Ray by his side. “It’s alright”, he managed to say around the lump in his throat. “What’s wrong? Did you really say… one year?”, Frank stammered into his hoodie. Bob sighed. “My heart is all fucked up. Not much they can do about it except get me a new one, which isn’t gonna happen”, he explained wearily.

 

To Bob's utter surprise Gerard and Mikey walked up to them and Gee cleared his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry, too. I… I shouldn’t have kicked you out. We should have talked it out somehow, I… you deserved better. And I’m sorry for the hate you get, that was never my intention. I had no idea people were giving you shit”, he said awkwardly. Bob could only stare at him. Apologizing really wasn’t Gerard’s strong suit. Their issues with each other wouldn’t resolve into sunshine and roses and Gee hadn’t even mentioned the worst part, which was him treating Frank like shit, but Bob could appreciate the apology nevertheless. “Yeah, me too. And you were right, you know? I never talked back to him enough. Maybe I should have. I’m… sorry for the way things ended. You deserved better from us. And from our fans, too, by the way”, Mikey added in a tense voice. It was obvious how much that had cost them.

 

Bob let out a long exhale and murmured: “Quite a lot of the hate is my fault, actually. Depression, loneliness and being suicidal don’t mix. I tweeted some stuff I’m not proud of, but at the time it felt like the only way to be noticed at all, because otherwise I was pretty much dead to the world. I just didn’t cope very well with you guys touring the world while people forgot about me so easily. But it’s in the past. Can we just move on from that? I don’t want to spend what little time I have left fighting with you guys.” He offered his hand and they both took it. The tension in his shoulders eased a bit. It felt like making peace.

 

“You still haven’t answered my question, though. What are you doing here? No offense, man...”, Mikey asked him, a lot friendlier this time. “Dude, you don’t even know what _you’re_ doing here”, Ray made a very valid point. Bob finally pulled out of Frank’s embrace and asked him: “Where is she?” Frank looked equally tired and nervous all of a sudden. He bit his lips and murmured: “She’ll be here tomorrow morning, I guess she’s still in Camden.” Camden?! What the hell, he had spent so much time in Jersey and she had been there all along? Bob couldn’t believe that he finally had a lead! “Who are you talking about?”, Ray wanted to know and looked back and forth between them, frowning.

 

“The fourth girl in that picture”, Frank explained. “Where did you even find it?”, Gerard pried further. Really good question, actually. Frank sighed and said: “My... one of the contestants had it on it’s phone. Just… let me show you, okay?”, before he turned around and led them through the back door and a few hallways into the garden. Bob never would have thought that he would ever set foot in here again! He saw Ray shudder and Mikey clench his teeth when they walked through the building. At least he wasn’t the only one. They weren’t alone, he could hear faint voices and music from somewhere, but it was still creepy as fuck. On they went across the lawn and towards the basketball court.

 

By now he could feel the exertion getting to him. Damn, he was pathetically out of shape! The pressure in his chest was rising and he was out of breath, even if he tried to hide it. In the distance he caught sight of five guys in black ski masks sitting under a tree. That had to be The New Jersey Fire. Bob had no clue what they had to do with all this, but he was actually excited to meet those kids. The drummer was at least decent and the singer’s voice was so similar to what he had sounded like a few years ago, he was definitely intrigued. Ray next to him grinned like a Cheshire cat once he figured out where they were headed. “In love with the guitar kid, Toro?”, Bob wheezed. Admittedly, the guy had some serious talent. There was a long-suffering groan from Gerard and Mikey behind them. “Please, don’t get him started. He hasn’t talked about anything else in two fucking weeks!”, Gee whined. Bob could just picture their expressions and would have laughed at their misery if he hadn’t been gasping for air already.

 

Luckily they made it to their destination soon after and he could lean against a tree to wipe his face on his sleeve and calm his shaking knees. Fuck, he was only 36 years old and felt like a man twice his age! In the meantime Frank said: “Guys, you know who they are. Alright then… uhm, may I introduce you, The New Jersey Fire. Anthony Frank Priccolo, Manuel Raymond Ortiz, Nathaniel Robert Cory, James Michael Lee and Arthur Gerard Lee.” Wait… _What!?_ What the hell! He couldn’t be serious! Bob saw his thoughts mirrored in the faces of his former band mates, but before anyone could say anything, the guys stood up and pulled off their masks.

 

Bob felt his body go numb, his vision swim and his heart miss a beat. What the… how… what was happening!? Was this a sick dream or something? Because there was no way, _no fucking way_ this could be real! All of a sudden he was incredibly grateful for the tree in his back. One of the boys stared at him as if he were a ghost and came closer. Tortuously slowly. He had blue eyes and short blonde hair, just the color Bob’s had been at that age. The boy couldn’t be much older then twenty at most. And he was, for reasons unknown, the spitting image of Bob. If he grew a beard, he would be a perfect copy of him. This was so surreal, he was dumbfounded. The boy… Nathaniel? Nate, the singer? Anyway, he stopped a few feet away and pulled something out from under his shirt. Something round and golden.

 

Bob’s heart stuttered for real this time and for a moment his world went black. If it hadn’t been for the tree behind him, he would have collapsed then and there. He hadn’t seen it for nineteen years. When he had realized that it was missing the morning after _that_ night, he had been devastated. This necklace had been his most valuable possession, handed down from father to son for generations, his only family heirloom. And now he saw it on a boy, who resembled him so closely… Nathaniel stood in front of him with tears in his eyes and a desperate, pleading expression on his face. It wasn’t hard to reach the right conclusion. A wave of emotion washed over him, even though he couldn’t make sense of it, it was all so chaotic and confusing.

 

Ever so slowly Bob opened his arms and his son collapsed against his chest. His son… He knew it in his bones. Who else could he possibly be? He held him close as best he could while the boy was shaken by quiet sobs and clung to him for dear life. Somehow it felt right to hold him, but Bob grew lightheaded and swayed a bit. His heart couldn’t cope with that much excitement. “Are you okay?”, Nate asked him in alarm and tightened his grip around his waist to keep him from falling. “Stupid heart”, Bob growled in response and slid down the bark until he could sit down properly. His son crouched beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, as if he couldn’t stop touching him to convince himself that he was real. This was the most surreal thing Bob had ever experienced. He didn’t know the boy at all, but he felt an almost magnetic pull towards him, that he couldn't have resisted, even if he had wanted to.

 

The necklace hung around his neck, shining brightly against his dark shirt. Bob raised a hand and gently brushed his fingertips over it. It was a golden discus on a gold chain with a satyr in its center. Just like he remembered it. “This has been in my family for over three hundred years, at least that’s how far back my dad could trace it”, he murmured inbetween his wheezing breaths. Who would have thought that it had been where it was supposed to be all along? The boy made a move to take it off, but Bob caught his wrist. “No, it’s yours. It’s family tradition to pass it on to the firstborn son when he comes of age. Keep it”, he said and mirrored Nate’s smile. “Mom gave it to me when I turned eighteen last Halloween”, his son told him quietly. Bob felt a pang of loss. He should have been there. He should have been there all along. But now was not the time to regret everything he had missed, so many questions were whizzing around his head, he couldn't even decide which one to ask first.

 

Finally he settled on: “So your name is Nathaniel?”, just to make sure once he had caught his breath. “Yeah, but everyone calls me Nate”, his son answered with a grin. Huh. Actually, now that he thought about it… “I don’t think I ever told her my middle name, how did she know?”, Bob wondered out loud. “Wait… I’m pretty sure that she didn’t even know my actual first name”, Ray added his two cents from somewhere to his right. “Hell, I did’t even catch _her_ name”, Gerard chimed in. Bob raised his eyebrow. He had a feeling that he was missing something. Just then the two boys, who looked like creepy younger clones of Mikey and Gee, replied in unison: “Penelope.” “They are twins”, Nate supplied helpfully. Oh. Well, shit. That was fucked up. The Ways had always been close, even for brothers, but that was… a bit much. Seriously, what the hell! He wasn’t even aware that he was staring until Gerard rolled his eyes and exclaimed: “Don’t look at me like that! I didn’t know she had screwed my brother before I met her!” Oh dear, this entire thing got weirder and weirder by the second. Mini Gerard yelled: “Oh my God, please, no details!”, while both Mikeys made the same grossed out face.

 

“Frank said that your mother will be here tomorrow?”, Bob asked his son and breathed a sigh of relief when he shook his head yes. “Are their moms coming too?”, he pried further while he pointed at the other boys. Nate’s smile faltered at that and he stared at his feet for a few long seconds before he murmured: “Tony’s mom didn’t survive his birth and aunt Daphne and aunt Penny died a few years ago. Only my mom is left.” Oh God! Bob felt a pang of sympathy for these kids, it had to be absolutely horrible to grow up not only without their fathers, but without their mothers, too! But underneath the shock, there was an overwhelming sense of relief. He couldn’t have borne to finally find Corinna after all those years, only to realize that she was gone already. Bob wasn’t religious, not by a long shot, but in that moment he sent a silent thanks to whoever or whatever had kept her safe.

 

Eventually they made their way back to the house and out to the cars. Bob was tempted to at least say hello to Patrick, but since he could do without running into anyone else, he was glad that they didn’t linger. Once the boys had grabbed their stuff, Ray and Manuel got into his Corvette while Gee, Mikey, James and Arthur drove off in the Mini. That left Frank, Anthony, Nate and him. “Meet you at ours?”, Frank’s son proposed while he fought Nate for the keys. Nate held them as far up as he could manage, safely out of the short guy’s reach. Good boy. That was how Bob got into Frank’s rental car and tried to catch his breath once he was seated. His body was really fighting him today.

 

Bob had no idea where he stood with his former band mate. He didn’t have any beef with Frank, but six years of radio silence wasn’t what he would call a friendship either. Still. It was clear as day that he was hurting. As soon as they were on the road Bob couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer, even if it felt weird to probe, now that they had drifted so far apart. “How are you, Frankie?”, he asked him carefully. “I’m alright, can’t wait to tour my new record with James, it’s gonna be awesome.” Yeah. Sure. He smiled sadly when Frank swallowed hard. “Don’t give me that bullshit. I’ve seen you happy. This isn’t happy. Spit it out already”, he tried the straightforward approach. “It’s nothing”, Frank said in his very best “fuck-off-I-don’t-wanna-talk-about-it” tone. Bob had heard it before, especially when he had tried to talk some sense into Frank about his messed up “relationship” with Gerard. It was still just as frustrating and unfair as it had been back then.

 

“Ah. That “nothing”. Does he know that you’re still not over him?” He was really pushing it this time, but Bob had always been one for brutal honesty. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was liars and cheaters, hence his disdain towards Gerard. “Fuck you, Bryar”, Frank growled, which was all the confirmation he needed. Oh dear, Bob had really hoped that Frank would move on after the breakup, but his solo album and one look at his face were enough to see hat he hadn’t. “I’m sorry. He’s never been good enough for you”, he murmured and dropped the subject. For now. Frank gritted his teeth and didn’t reply. God, Bob really hoped that he could control himself around Gee, otherwise he would rip the bastard to shreds.

 

Once they arrived, the boys got rid of their masks, Tony busied himself with making coffee and Nate disappeared upstairs while Bob looked around the cozy living room. It was a nice home, apparently they didn’t have to worry about money if they could afford something like this in L.A.. Good. He already felt like shit because he hadn’t been there for Nate, he would have never forgiven himself if his son had been in need while he had been busy being a rock star.

 

The next hour was spent over tons of photographs on Nate’s laptop. Frank and Bob took in every picture and every story, they couldn’t get enough of it. There was so much to learn about their sons, after all they had missed more than eighteen years of their lives. Next the boys pestered them with questions about how they had met their mothers, their childhood, My Chem and of course what they were up to these days, which wasn’t much in Bob’s case. He had a house in the forest and spent his days in his workshop, playing with his dogs and his cat or riding his bikes.

 

When he found out that Nate actually wasn’t the singer, but the drummer of The New Jersey Fire, Bob could help neither his huge grin nor the surge of pride in his chest. He had always dreamed of a family of his own, especially of a son, who might have followed in his footsteps one day. There were a small kit and a few amps in a corner of the living room, so he asked Nate to play something. Watching him was the single most humbling and breathtaking experience of his life. He was totally engrossed in the song he had chosen. Black Sabbath, he didn’t miss a single hit, his precision and rhythm were out of this world. Bob realized with a fond smile that his son did that little flick at the end of each hit, as well, just like he had back when he had still played. It was such a small thing, but he cherished it nonetheless. Nate was an exceptional drummer and Bob was so fucking proud of him. And the smile, that lit up his son’s face when he told him so, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

 

Hours passed while they slowly got to know each other. Bob even spoke about his heart condition. He had had a pretty nasty bout of the flu the winter after he had been kicked out of the band. Of course, being the stubborn bastard that he was, he hadn’t gone to see a doctor and rather holed himself up at home. A few weeks afterwards he had started to feel like shit again, but hadn’t thought much of it. But when it got worse and worse and he even noticed strange red dots on his hands, he had reluctantly gone for a check. They had told him that his heart was inflamed and that some bacteria from his flu had fucked up two cardiac valves. They had wanted to cut him open and put in new ones, which would have meant pills for the rest of his live and open-heart surgery. Bob had laughed in their faces and walked away. At the time he hadn’t seen any reason why he should put himself through that. Of course it had only gotten worse, by now they called it global heart insufficiency. He stuffed himself with pills every day, couldn’t drink and smoke anymore and they had even cut down his coffee two two cups a day. Fucking quacks. He was gonna be dead in two years at most and there was nothing they could do to stop it. Well, aside from a heart transplant, which wasn’t gonna happen, he would never get that high on the waiting list.

 

Bob swallowed hard and looked away when he saw the absolute anguish in his son’s eyes. Why had he not let them do the surgery when they had recommended it? At the very least it would have bought him time. Time he could have spent with Nate. God, he had never wanted to go back and make it right so badly! The boy deserved so much better than a train wreck like him for a father! If only he had known about him sooner! He would have taken better care of himself in the first place, because Nate needed him healthy and strong. Fuck, why had Corinna not tried to find him and tell him that he had become a dad?! He would have moved heaven and earth to be there for his son!

 

~~~ Frank’s POV ~~~

 

Frank cursed under his breath when Bob won the third round of Mario Kart in a row. The bastard had to know a short-cut or something, there was no way he could have made it otherwise! But he kept his mouth shut and didn’t bitch about it, because he was incredibly grateful that the mood had lightened again after their conversation this afternoon. Somehow Frank hadn’t truly realized how serious Bob had been about how much time he had left and the story of how it had happened had shaken him to the core. His old friend’s hate towards doctors was hardly new, but they had always been able to bully him into accepting the treatment he needed in the end. The realization that there had been no one to make him see reason when he would have needed it, was the worst part. Frank was so fucking ashamed of himself. He hadn’t even tried to call him, not once in six years. There had always been another excuse and in the end it had all come down to the fact that Gerard hadn’t been the only one who hadn’t been able to deal with Bob’s brutal honesty. Frank already knew that his fruitless pining was both pathetic and toxic, he hadn’t needed to have it spelled out by someone else.

 

After their talk and a few silent tears from Nate, Frank and Tony had called his parents. His mom had cried with joy, asked Tony a hundred questions and berated Frank for his promiscuous behavior back then, all at the same time. He had reminded her not to tell anybody, at least until the show was over, and not to come for the finale, because they couldn’t draw any more attention, it was bad enough that it was gonna be the first time My Chem would be seen in public again. She had tried to argue with him, but Frank hadn’t budged. In the end she had been content with a selfie of them both and the promise of daily phone calls. His dad, on the other hand, had been more confused than anything else. He had asked them several questions Frank didn’t have the answers to, yet and he had actually believed that Frank was joking until he saw the selfie for proof. He had been very pleased with Tony’s first and middle name, though, and pointed out that he would be the third of his name if he took their last name. Which was… yeah, that was a discussion for another day, they really had more important things to worry about.

 

Frank had been so physically and emotionally drained after that call and the day he had had, that he had agreed to play video games immediately. Anything that didn’t require thinking and had nothing to do with family drama. Just as Bob’s insane winning streak started to get out of hand, keys jingled in the front door and Art toed off his shoes. He looked about as done with this day as Frank and collapsed between Tony and him on the couch. His son immediately wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and kissed him. Frank looked away and caught Bob’s compassionate look. Damn, Bryar was too observant for his own good! And of course he was right… it still fucking hurt to see them together. But he would have to get over it, for Tony. What else was he to do?

 

“How was it?”, Nate asked Art eventually, as soon as the two love birds had stopped sucking faces next to him. Art sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Exhausting. Awkward. I don’t know. I’ve always imagined that he would be happy to meet me, but Lindsey… let’s just say she _wasn’t_. She gave me a pissed look and locked herself into her studio. Gerard and I did some drawing, he showed me his comic collection and his guitars and it was really cool, but… it didn’t feel like he was my father, you know? I don’t even know what I expected. Probably too much”, he murmured dejectedly. Frank sighed. He couldn’t say that it was unexpected.

 

“Gee has never been good with surprises. Give him some time, he’ll come around. I bet he’s freaking the fuck out right now and only kept it together until you were gone”, he told the disappointed boy next to him. “Sounds about right. If there’s one thing he hates, it’s not being in control. This is probably as chaotic as it gets”, Bob backed him up, but Art still looked utterly miserable. “Whatever. Guess I was just naive enough to think he would be happy to meet me”, he whispered, staring at his feet. Damn, would it have killed Gee and Lindsey to put a little more effort into this first encounter? Other than Gerard Frank had known Tony pretty well before today’s revelations, he understood that this couldn’t be easy for him, but still. Art was Gee’s _son_.

 

“I’m absolutely sure that he will be once he gets to know you”, Frank tried to reassure him. Hopefully Gerard got his shit together sometime soon. Art shrugged and buried his face in his hands. Frank squeezed his shoulder. This was so fucking unfair, but that was life for you, he had learned it the hard way a long time ago. Tony asked his boyfriend: “Coffee?”, just as Nate offered: “Pizza?” Art smiled. It was tiny, but it was there. Half an hour later they all sat around the TV and wolfed down their food while the intro of “Suspiria” was playing, which was apparently Art’s favorite horror movie of all time.

Afterwards Nate offered Bob the guest bedroom before they left to pick up his stuff and, more importantly, his meds from his motel room. Frank was left behind with Art and Tony and even though it was only ten o’clock and both Manny and Jimmy were still out with Ray and Mikey, he was knackered and ready to pass out on the couch.

 

“Frank? Why did you run away when we took off our masks this morning?”, Art asked him after a while of comfortable silence. Frank felt a surge of warmth permeate his chest when he realized that Tony had kept his secret and not even told his boyfriend, who had to be the person he trusted the most. But even though he didn’t have words to express what the boy's discretion meant to him, Art was Gerard’s son. He had a right to know and Gee would never tell him voluntarily. Frank sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know the rumors about me and your father, don’t you?”, he asked the boy, who made a confirmative noise. “Most of it is true. We were a thing for years, but he ended it when he quit the band. That’s why… seeing the two of you together was… too much for me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have run like that, I just needed some space to get my shit together”, he explained quietly.

 

Suddenly Art pulled him close and hugged him. Frank’s breath caught in his throat and he had to grit his teeth, but he managed to keep it together. Barely. God, being so close to him was a very special brand of torture. Frank had to bite back a pathetic whimper. He even smelled like Gee: coffee, cigarettes and musk. His embrace felt just like his father’s, it was too good, too close to the real thing. Somehow he found himself cuddling up to his son’s boyfriend and there was only one place Frank would rather be. But since he would never be allowed to lie in Gerard’s arms again, he contented himself with this. It was as close as it was ever gonna get again.

 

When the boys went to bed a few minutes later, they dragged him along. He had stayed over a few times in the guest bedroom, but since Bob slept there tonight… Frank didn’t know how it happened, but somehow he ended up sharing their bed with them. He wouldn’t dream of complaining. Tony had lent him some Darth Vader pajamas and he was snuggled up to Art’s chest with the boy’s arm around his back. Tony mirrored his position on the other side, their foreheads almost touching and their hands clasped firmly together on Art's belly. It was so horribly perfect. Tony gently squeezed his fingers. Art sighed contentedly. Frank closed his eyes and felt their warmth seep into his body. It was absolutely, purely platonic, but for the first time in forever Frank felt… loved. He was safe and sound, almost at peace and so incredibly grateful to be Tony’s father. He slept better than he had in years.

 

_Golden sunlight set the bedroom aglow when two little whirlwinds crashed into Frank and knocked the air out of his lungs. A long-suffering groan from beside him made him look over to where Gerard pulled up the comforter until only a few strands of his tousled brown hair peeked out. "Daaaaaad, get up, we want pancakes!", the little boy in his lap whined, all hazel eyes and dark hair. His brother beside him grinned expectantly, his tiny, crooked teeth on full display. Frank pulled them close and_ _kissed their hair_ _before he got to his feet. Peppers and Sweet Pea came running up to him for morning cuddles and he indulged them for a few minutes before he_ _headed to_ _the kitchen. "Make sure your father gets up!", he called over his shoulder and smiled to himself when a loud squeal indicated that Gee had once again fallen victim to one of their vicious tickle attacks.  
  
Frank __fed the_ _dogs and let them out into the yard before he started the coffee and turned on the stove. He added water to the pancake mix and shook it with gusto. Only then did he realize that the lid was still lying innocently on the counter. Yep, the gooey liquid went fucking everywhere and he was splattered from head to toe. Frank was totally stunned and had to blink a few times before he comprehended where the sudden noise was coming from. When he turned around, his husband and their sons were positively wheezing with laughter. Gee even had to hold onto the door frame to keep upright while he wiped tears from his eyes. Frank would have bristled if it had been anybody else, but Gerard's obnoxious giggles_ _would_ _always be the most beautiful sound in the world. He was still standing in the middle of his mess when his husband closed the distance between them and tenderly wiped some of the liquid off his face. He was still chuckling to himself and shook his head with a fond smile. Then he whispered: "God, I love you, you gorgeous, impossible, adorable man!" Suddenly his lips were on Frank's, tasting of mint toothpaste, laughter and lazy Sunday mornings. Their sons made all kinds of gagging noises behind them and one of them yelled: "GROSS, Dads!", at the top of his lungs. Frank didn't care. He wrapped his arms around Gee's neck, pulled him closer and smeared the pancake mix all over him in the process. He was kissing the love of his life. They had two beautiful children. Their dogs were running around their feet, trying to lick up the mess he had made. Frank was completely, perfectly and desperately happy._  
  
What actually woke him up was a flash of light and that annoying camera sound of someone's phone. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but eventually he realized that he was still pressed up to Art, just like his son across from him. Frank sat up and discovered the other occupants of the flat in the doorway. "You guys looked so adorable!", Manny gushed and pressed both hands over his heart. Tony threw a pillow at him. When Frank turned around, his son yawned and stretched beside him. "Morning", they said at the same time, raspy, low and sounding exactly the same. "You guys are creepy", Jimmy stated casually, turned around and marched off towards the kitchen, calling: "Make sure your boyfriend gets up!", over his shoulder. Frank sighed heavily while he got to his feet. Only a dream. God, what he wouldn't give for it to be reality. He was still convinced that they could have had that. But it took two to get there and living in his fantasies had never worked out for him so far.  
  
He was shaken out of his wistful musings when Tony asked him: "Any ideas how to get him out of bed?" Frank didn't even have to think about it and blurted out: "Coffee." The only thing, that could possibly work. "Boring!", his son dismissed the advice and grabbed the comforter instead. With combined efforts they managed to wrangle it away, but Art still wasn't moving. Frank pondered a cold washcloth to the face or a tickle attack when Nate came marching into the room and murmured: "Let the pro have a go." Then he took a deep breath and played his trombone as loudly as he possibly could, just one long, deafening note. Art jumped violently, let out a shocked scream and scrambled to get away from the sudden onslaught. In the end he fell out of the bed and landed with a loud thump and a muffled groan. By then both Tony and Frank were in tears of laughter and Nate was apparently fighting really hard to keep it together, as well. Art’s mop of purple hair reappeared as he crawled back on the bed like the Ring girl climbing out of the well. The comparison was actually pretty accurate, since he hissed: “You’re fucking DEAD, Cory!” and took off after Nate, who ran for his life down the hallway.

It ended in an epic pillow fight in the living room, feathers everywhere and Nate on the floor. Art and Tony were lying on top of him, Art dead-set on revenge and Tony trying to stop him. All the while Jimmy sat on the couch, filming it on his phone as Manny stood by, pinching the bridge of his nose and doing a perfect impression of Ray’s “I’m-the-only-sane-person-in-this-madhouse” face. Frank shook his head at their antics and made a run for the coffee pot before Art and Jimmy got their hands on it. They all had breakfast together before he climbed into the boy’s van and looked back at Bob, who sat in his rental car and looked more nervous than Frank had ever seen him before. But then again… how often did one meet one’s son’s mother after more than eighteen years? Frank wished him all the luck in the world. God knew he deserved it.


	9. We'll meet again when both our cars collide

Bob swallowed hard, checked his watch for the seventh time in two minutes and tried in vain to keep his breathing even. Why was he even nervous? He was only picking her up from the airport and giving her a ride, because the boys were busy with their preparations for the show tomorrow night. Eighteen years, five months and fifteen days... God, he had been so devastated when he had woken up alone the morning after their night together. He had frantically searched the room for a note. Only then had he realized that his necklace was gone, too. It had been the first and only time he had cried over a one-night stand. It had felt different, as if they were meant to be, there was no logic explanation for the yearning in his chest. As if not only his most beloved possession, but also a piece of him was missing.

 

He had never believed in love at first glance, but Corinna had taught him better. It had taken him a year before he even considered hooking up with someone else and another one before he had gone through with it. She had been pretty, short and blonde, as different from her as it got, but still, it had been a very sobering experience. He had hardly managed to come and the hollow feeling of loneliness afterwards really hadn’t been worth the small amount of endorphins. So Bob had continued to look for her. At that point he had long been a regular at the club they had met in. And once he had started to tour with various bands, he had scanned the crowd every single night. During his days with My Chem he had sometimes thought that he had seen a glimpse of her face, but it had always been gone once he had taken a second look.

 

There had been a few random shags, but few and far inbetween, and even one attempt at a relationship, but they had all paled next to her memory and he had eventually come to accept that she had ruined him for anybody else. To this day he dreamed of that night. He still had the pillowcase she had slept on. It had long lost its faint smell of her, but he couldn’t let go of it. She was just… she was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her smile was what kept him going and what had stopped him the one or two times his guns had looked a little too enticing. And now he was about to see her again, after all that time. Ten years ago, he barely would have been able to contain his excitement, but today cold dread was pooling in his stomach. He was broken beyond repair, had absolutely nothing but a bit of money to offer her and both looked and felt like a much older man than he actually was.

 

But before he could loose his nerve for good and chicken out of it, the first passengers exited through the big glass doors and he kept scanning the crowd. Nate had showed him a few pictures, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he actually set eyes on her. She looked older than he remembered, the faint lines around her gray eyes, her more sensible clothes and the simple brown braid, that rested on her shoulder, were a far cry from the sensual goddess in his bed. But even though she was pale and exhausted, if her expression was anything to go by, to him the years had only enhanced her beauty.

Bob could pinpoint the exact moment she recognized him and gripped the flowers he had bought for her a little tighter when she froze a few steps away from him. Her suitcase hit the floor with a bang, but she didn’t even seem to notice. She stared at him, her eyes wide with shock and her full lips parted in a perfect “o” of surprise. Bob swallowed hard and forced himself to close the distance. “Robert?”, she whispered breathlessly. He managed a small nod and was nearly knocked to the ground when she threw herself into his arms.

 

How had he survived for nearly two decades without this? She was so warm, firm and _real_ in his arms! Corinna buried her face in his shoulder and let out a quiet sob, her slim shoulders shaking. Bob held her as close as they could physically get, painfully aware of the pudge around his waist. Next her scent of lavender and musk hit him and he closed his eyes to commit it to memory again. Nothing had ever smelled so good before. He couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. He had imagined their reunion countless times, but nothing came even close to reality. It was almost like a puzzle piece clicking into place, he literally sensed a delicious warmth spread through his chest and calm his racing heartbeat. All of a sudden Bob felt better than he had in months. The slight vertigo was gone and his hands weren’t so chilly anymore. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he sure as hell wouldn’t complain.

 

When he finally pulled back and faced her again, she smiled at him with stars in her eyes as a shining tear rolled down her cheek. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had looked at him like that. “I’ve been looking for you”, he managed to say after a while. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, but she kept smiling. “How did you find me?”, she asked him, her voice shaky and thin, but just as soft and comforting as he remembered. “Frank introduced me to Nate. He’s… he’s such an awesome guy”, he stammered and felt himself blush at his fumbling for words. Corinna seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and beamed at him when he mentioned their son. “That he is. Just like his father”, she whispered and placed both hands on his chest. Bob couldn’t breathe for a moment. A tiny part of him had still doubted that it was true. This was the best thing, that had happened to him in six years, he wasn’t used to good news anymore. But now his fear that it was all a huge misunderstanding melted away and he felt lighter than he had in years.

 

That was the moment he remembered the flowers and stepped back to give them to her. She buried her face in the colorful blossoms and inhaled their sweet scent with her eyes closed. Beautiful. Stunning. Enchanting. He could have found countless words to add to the list, but it finally registered that they were still standing in LAX. Bob reached for her suitcase on the floor. Time to get out of here. She took his unusually warm hand on their way to Frank’s rental car. Bob was on top of the fucking world.

 

They spent the car ride in comfortable silence. He felt her eyes on him the entire time and tried his best not to fidget under her close scrutiny. Bob knew that he wasn’t a catch, not by a long shot, and the worst part was that he had no idea where they stood. The suspense was killing him, but this was neither the place nor the time to discuss it. He already had a hard time focusing on traffic, actually it was a miracle that they made it back to the boy’s house without a crash.

 

As soon as the door clunked shut behind them, Corinna was back in his arms. She cuddled up to his chest, sighed contentedly and murmured: “I missed you so much!” Before he could come up with an answer, she raised to her tip toes, cupped his cheeks in her hands and pressed her lips to his. For a split second, time stopped. Bob couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, even his heart missed a few beats. Tingling warmth flooded his senses and spread from his mouth until his fingertips. A tingle ran all over his body and had every hair stand on edge. He had never experienced anything like it before, it only lasted for the briefest moment before his heart came back to life in his chest. It took up a much slower, more powerful rhythm, he felt lightheaded for a few beats before his body adjusted to it. Wow. What the hell had just happened?!

 

When he looked down at Corinna to ask if she had felt it too, she already stared at him with wide, overwhelmed eyes. The pallor of her skin was but a distant memory, a rosy blush coloring her cheeks. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but somehow she seemed to… glow. She looked years younger, energized, like a different person. “Oh my… Robert, you… just see for yourself”, she stammered and pulled him in front of the big mirror across from the coat hangers. Bob felt his jaw slacken and watched his reflection perform a pretty good impression of a goldfish. His bloodless face looked almost healthy and his grayish lips had returned to their normal color. But most notably – he had… hair? Like, real, thick, blond hair where the bald patch he hated so much had been. Bob ran his hand through the thick stubble and hoped to God that this would be permanent.

 

He met Corinna’s gaze in the mirror. His breath caught in his throat when she bit her lip and looked at him like she wanted to rip off his clothes here and now. “Come to bed with me. Please?”, she asked him huskily. Oh fuck, yes! He wanted to, God, he did! It was just that... unfortunately the spirit was willing, but the body was weak. “I wish I could, but I haven’t had an erection in months, because of my meds. My heart is all fucked up”, he confessed quietly. _Why the hell had he not let the quacks fix it, for fuck’s sake!?_ It was yet another thing he couldn’t give her. Why should she even bother with him? “We don’t have to have sex. I just… I want to be close to you and feel your skin against mine. Just hold me. Could you do that?”, she pleaded with him. Honestly? That sounded fucking perfect.

 

Bob led her into the guest bedroom and held his breath when she started to unbutton his shirt. Her nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons and slipped it off his shoulders before he even got a word in. He gritted his teeth and stared at the wall. It wasn’t pretty, his belly was pale, soft and littered with pink stretch marks. He really cursed his own laziness in that moment, he would have worked out every day, if only he had known that this was in store for him. Not that there was very much he could have done lately, but still. However, Corinna shucked her cardigan and blouse in record time and Bob’s mouth went bone dry. She reached around her back, unhooked her white lace bra and let it fall to the floor. He really hoped that he wasn’t drooling when he stared at her tits. They weren’t as firm as they used to be, after all she had had his child, but they were still round, soft and just… would it be very rude if he grabbed them? Just then he felt a little twitch where there hadn’t happened anything at all in so long. Just a tingle, a warm buzz before his cock filled out and strained against his jeans. Huh. Look at that.

 

Corinna stared at his crotch like hypnotized, her hand inching closer and closer to his fly.”Robert, please… let me have it? _Please_ , I haven’t been with anyone but you, I need it so bad”, she whimpered, just before her fingers closed around his clothed shaft. Jesus Christ, what was he supposed to say to that?! He couldn’t think while she squeezed him just right, all he knew was that there was no telling if he would ever get hard again and that he would damn well make the most of it. “Take whatever you want, but better be quick about it, I don’t know how long it will last”, he ground out with the last bit of clear thought he could manage before his mind was clouded with arousal. She quickly undid his belt, yanked down his jeans and underwear and shoved him back onto the bed. Before he knew it, she was above him and her tongue slid into his mouth. She grabbed him, looking almost frantic with need, and then his eyes rolled back into his head as he sank into impossibly tight, wet heat.

 

God, it had been so long! He groaned into her mouth as his heart beat sped up and she dug her fingernails into his chest. Somehow he managed to hold back when she started to ride him into oblivion. Her moans vibrated through his body and just like that the last shreds of his restraint went out of the window. Bob had no idea how he managed it, but he grabbed her hips, braced his feet against the mattress and thrust up, coaxing a hoarse cry out of her. She fell forwards, her walls clamping down on him and her teeth piercing his shoulder as she shook and fell apart on top of him. Her orgasm was more than enough to catapult him over the edge, as well. Bob felt it rush through him like a riptide. He threw back his head and cried himself hoarse as he exploded deep inside her and realized belatedly that they hadn’t used a condom. He was still coming when a blinding light erupted between them and he was swamped by an even more intense wave of the same tingling heat he had experienced during their kiss in the hallway.

 

Once again it took his breath away. This was probably what it felt like to be injected with some kind of superhero serum, as if his body were ripped apart and put back together again. It walked the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain until it finally abated and he sucked in a much-needed lungful of air. When he opened his eyes, he was almost sure that he was either dreaming or dead and what he saw was one hell of an afterlife. Corinna was still sitting astride him with his cock buried to the hilt in her body, but she was surrounded by a soft golden glow, like an angel or some other celestial creature. She didn’t seem to care, but stared at him as if _she_ couldn’t believe her eyes. “Robert!”, she whispered in awe and trailed her fingertips down his abs… Wait. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?

 

Bob sat upright so quickly that he very nearly would have knocked her off and she had to hold onto his shoulders for balance. During the last few minutes he had miraculously lost about 40 lbs. Smooth skin spanned over firm muscle, as if the stretch marks had never been there. Something tickled his brow and he reached up to feel long, silky strands of hair. It was then that he saw it. He stared completely speechless at the smooth, immaculate skin of his right wrist. Drumming was hard on the body, in his case it had caused the tendon to his right ring finger to snap. They had fixed it as best they could, but he had never been able to grip his sticks properly after that. The scar had been there for nine years, how the… how was this possible!? He grabbed a pillow and squeezed. There was so much force behind it! The fabric crumbled in his grip and his eyes watered when the realization hit that his arm was… fine. And not just the arm. His heart beat strong and steady in his chest and when he reached around Corinna to feel the back of his left calf, he found nothing but smooth skin and soft hair where hard scar tissue had been. 

 

She cupped his cheeks in her hands and forced him to look into her loving eyes. And Bob burst into tears. He wrapped both arms around her, pulled her flush against his chest and buried his face in her shoulder. He didn’t even begin to understand what had just happened, but it felt like a second chance at life he didn’t deserve. It was just too much at once, he had no words to express his confusing emotions. “Ssh, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, I love you””, Corinna whispered into his ear. That was the last straw. Bob bawled his eyes out. He hadn’t cried like this since the day he had lost her, but now that it was over, all his pain poured out of him and there was no way he could stop it. He barely managed to say it back around the lump in his throat. She held him through the worst of his sobs before she laid down beside him and opened her arms for him to nestle against her chest. Bob held on for dear life and wrapped himself around her. He never wanted to leave this bed again. Eventually he felt like he could speak again, wiped his eyes on the sheets and cleared his throat before he asked her: “What just happened?”

 

She told him a tale about Gods, nymphs, soul-bonds and other crazy stuff. Bob’s head was spinning from all the information, but it made some weird kind of sense. Maybe his health problems had been the manifestation of their separation? As if his body had gradually shut down the longer he had been without her? And now that they were reunited he had been “healed”, for lack of a better word? Did it really matter? He was here, they were together and he felt ready to take on _anything_.

 

Other than most people he didn’t doubt her story for a second, because, well… “I’m actually not entirely human either. It’s been about eleven, twelve generations, but one of my ancestors was a satyr. The necklace was his gift to his half-blood son”, he told her. Bob had never talked about it before, who would believe him anyway? But Corinna made a face like she had finally solved a big mystery. “So _that’s_ why the soul bond worked! It probably wouldn't have if you had been entirely human and I would have died about twelve years after we met, just like Penny and Daphne. Looks like your ancestry frustrated the stupid plan of The King of the Gods”, she exclaimed smugly, looking extremely pleased with the situation. Bob kissed her triumphant smile and felt himself get hard again. Time to make good use of the extremely short refractory period and more than generous endowment he had inherited from his satyr ancestor and find out how much this new body could take. Corinna was only too eager to go along with his idea and moaned obscenely when he sheeted his thick shaft in her silky heat.

 

They did it again on the floor halfway to the bathroom and once more in the shower. Bob nearly stumbled and fell when he stepped out onto the rug afterwards. He had fucked her against the tiles, reveling in his muscles and supporting her weight effortlessly, he wasn’t even out of breath anymore, even though he definitely felt the exertion. It had been so worth the sore muscles he would have tomorrow. Damn, how was this his life? In the last two hours he had had more sex than in all the years after My Chem!

 

Once they had dried off, he took a long look into the mirror and smiled at his reflection for the first time in years. Except for the beard he looked pretty much like he had ten years ago. Maybe a bit older, of course, but still… He grabbed his clippers and cut it short without hesitation. This was a new beginning and the hick with the unkempt facial hair belonged to the past. When he was done, he was almost crept out by his appearance. As if the last years had never happened. Bob couldn’t believe that such an invaluable gift had been given to him of all people.

 

As it turned out, none of his clothes fit his much slimmer frame, which resulted in a raid of his son’s wardrobe. He hoped that Nate wouldn’t mind him borrowing some underwear, sweatpants and a Rush shirt. They spent the rest of the day on the couch, eating sandwiches and catching up to the best of their ability. How were they supposed to sum up nearly two decades on their own? Bob had missed Nate’s entire childhood, she could tell him about his son for days, weeks, months and it would never be enough. He also asked her whether he had to be prepared for a godly inspection and was relieved when she told him that they hadn’t hear anything from Olympus after their sons had been born. In fact, she was pretty sure that Zeus had already forgotten about them and was busy shagging his way through everyone, who would have him.

 

It was already pretty late in the afternoon when the sound of keys at the front door popped their peaceful little bubble. They got to their feet just in time before five guys came running in (Nate up front) and pulled Corinna into an enormous group hug. She smiled at them, pressed kisses to their foreheads and caressed their hair, telling them how much she had missed them and how proud she was of everything they had achieved so far. Back when Bob had met her the first time, he probably wouldn’t have pictured her as a mother, but now that he saw her in the midst of her family, it seemed to come so naturally to her. If only he could have seen her pregnant or nursing his newborn child. A very small, hopeful voice in the back of his mind whispered that maybe it wasn’t too late for that, but he tried to ignore it. He had already been blessed beyond compare today and really shouldn’t ask for anything more.

 

That was when someone gasped and he turned around to see his former band mates standing in the doorway and staring at him as if he were a ghost. Which was…. not so far off, to be fair. Only then did the younger generation catch on and he found himself at the center of attention. “Bob?”, Ray asked him timidly, apparently absolutely unable to make sense of what he saw. “Uhmm… long story”, he murmured in response and smiled bashfully. Ever so slowly Nate came closer, his blue eyes taking in every single one of his features. “How… what… you look just like me!”, he blurted out eventually. Bob couldn’t help but chuckle, for once he had managed to render them all speechless with minimal effort, which was a first. He took his son’s hand and placed in on his chest, let him feel the steady beating of his heart. “Looks like you’re gonna have to put up with your old man for a bit longer than we thought”, he murmured quietly, only for him to hear.

 

Nate looked at him as if Christmas had come early while his eyes watered and he let out a quiet sob. And then he hugged him like he never wanted to let go again. Bob held him close and reveled in how different it felt from yesterday. Now they were so similar in build that they fit into each others embrace as if they were made for one another. It was utterly surreal, after all he was basically hugging a younger version of himself. Eventually Nate let go of him and he took the opportunity to greet his former band mates, Ray’s wife Christa and Mikey’s wife Kristin, whom he only knew from pictures on social media. Judging by the way everyone was eyeing Corinna, they had come in hopes of finding answers, which was hardly surprising given the way they had been confronted with scarily accurate younger versions of themselves the day before.

 

They all got comfortable in a big circle in the living room. Only then did Bob realize that Gerard’s wife Lindsey was notably absent. Trouble in paradise? Interesting. He would have been so much better off with Frank, but oh well… Man forges his own destiny. Anyway. Corinna started to explain to the best of her ability. It went on for hours. Zeus’ order and what had brought it on, how they had given birth and raised their sons, how her friends had died of seemingly natural causes twelve years into their mortal life and why. How she had survived a lot longer than them because of the bond she had formed with him. How their health had suffered because they had been apart and how it had been restored as soon as they had been reunited. Admittedly, it was a lot to take in.

 

Bob hadn’t expected his former band mates to take it at face value, and he was proven right by their more than incredulous expressions. He added his family history, which seemed to make it worse. Finally Corinna threw her hands into the air in frustration and said: “Oh, for the God’s sake! The boys were all born the same day. What are the odds that four pregnancies last exactly the same amount of time? Or even that all four of us fell pregnant after only one night? Do you have any idea how long it takes some couples to have children? And how could we possibly have named them after you if it hadn’t been for some higher power telling us your full names? We didn’t stalk you for this, you know? They look like you, they talk like you… you didn’t even know each other back then, you lived in three different states! That’s a lot of coincidence, don’t you think? Take a paternity test if you don’t believe me!”

 

Bob had to bite his lip and place a pillow in his lap to hide how much he liked seeing her all riled up. Her eyes were sparkling and there was that lovely blush again… Jesus Christ, he felt like his body was dead-set on catching up on all the alone time they had missed out on at once! Later, he told himself and glanced at his watch. Only a few hours before he would have her all to himself again. He couldn’t wait. Sleep was overrated anyway.

 

Apparently Frank, Kristin and the Toros saw the truth in Corinna’s rant, but the Way brothers still looked a little reluctant. Bob rolled his eyes and growled: “You saw me yesterday. And no, she didn’t drag me into a beauty salon!” Frank and the boys snickered quietly to themselves. Seriously, they didn’t need to understand exactly what had happened, as long as they made the best of it. “Ask me something only I could know then, if you think that I’m just a lookalike and the real Bob Bryar is locked up in a basement somewhere”, he offered in exasperation. This was getting ridiculous.

 

“How many times did you punch Gee?”, Ray asked him after a few beets of silence. Bob felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “Once”, he replied without hesitation. Unfortunately. He really wouldn’t have a problem with a repeat performance. “What did you do to Frank when he ran after you with a camera all day on Warped Tour?”, Mikey wanted to know with an actual smile. Bob grinned like a Cheshire cat. Good memories. “Hid a huge spider in his bag. He screamed like a girl until Ray got rid of it and didn’t wear anything out of that bag for the rest of the tour, it was awesome”, he answered with a chuckle. “Fuck you, Bryar, I should have known that was you!”, Frank yelled and threw him a death glare while everyone but Tony, who shuddered violently, was laughing at him. Bob should probably be on his toes, Frankie’s revenge would be served ice cold, but whatever he might come up with, it had still been worth it.

 

~~~

 

Bob awoke the next morning to a beautiful woman in his arms and a huge smile on his face. His body was sore in the very best way, which was to be expected after yesterday’s activities. He stretched luxuriously and sighed contentedly. Life was really fucking sweet right now. How had he gone from a lonely, miserable invalid to a healthy man in his prime with a great boy for a son and a literal nymph for a girlfriend? Just then Corinna growled adorably, stretched like a cat and wrapped clever fingers around his morning wood before her lush lips closed around his nipple. Really fucking sweet, indeed.

 

Somehow they managed to get to the kitchen in time for Corinna to prepare breakfast for all occupants of the house plus Frank, who had apparently stayed over yet again. Once everyone had left for dress rehearsals and Bob had helped himself to some of his son’s clothes again, they got on a bus to the closest mall, so that he could buy some of his own. For the first time in years shopping was actually fun (which might have had something to do with the lingerie he made his girlfriend try on, that lead to a fantastic blowjob in the changing room). They had already found him an outfit for the show tonight when they made one last stop at Hot Topic. Bob grabbed a few Black Sabbath shirts, one or two by Iron Maiden and a Rush one (shut up, Frank).

 

What he hadn’t expected was for the cashier to almost pass out when she recognized him. He signed a Black Parade CD when she asked for an autograph and patiently answered her questions. Yes, thank you, he was fine. No, he wasn’t pursuing music anymore. He was in L.A. for the finale of Frank’s show. Yes, of course they were still talking, actually they had all met up the day before. Oh, by the way, he was here with his girlfriend (just in case she got any ideas). By the time they left, she was absolutely giddy with excitement. He had even allowed her to take a photo with them and wondered idly how long it would take her to post it on every single social network she frequented, along with every little bit of information she had squeezed out of him. It had been weird, kinda surreal, but still, it was nice to be appreciated. He pulled Corinna closer and walked through the mall with his arm around her waist. By the time they reached the parking lot, he had counted no less than four people, who had taken pictures of them. That hadn’t happened in a while.

 

Once they returned home, he spent another hour buried to the hilt between his girlfriend’s shapely thighs. Bob very much doubted that sex with her would ever get old, he just couldn’t get enough of her. Afterwards she left for the kitchen to prepare lunch and he was left to his own devices. Hmmm… He sauntered into the living room and paused for a moment when his gaze fell on Nate’s kit in the corner. His fingers were positively itching to wield a pair of sticks again, he hadn’t played in so long. Actually he wasn’t even sure if he could still do it, he probably sucked after a year without practice. However… There was a practice pad and a pair of Vic sticks on the windowsill next to the kit. He couldn’t have resisted if he wanted to. Just gripping sticks without the thick layer of tape he had needed around them, so that he could still grip them hard enough with his bad hand, was an absolutely elating feeling. He warmed up carefully, determined to take good care of his newly healed body, and held his breath when he hit the practice pad for the first time.

It was natural, muscle memory taking over as he relaxed into the familiar routine. And then, finally, he sat down on the stool. One of the advantages to having a drummer son of the exact same height and build was definitely the fact that he didn’t have to adjust a single thing and only needed to decide on something to play. He checked the tuning and somehow ended up hitting his snare and floor tom at the same time. From there it was almost reflex to launch into “I’m Not Okay”. Fuck it. Nobody but Corinna would hear, he might as well go for the song he had played more times than any other. And it felt so… fucking… good! Once he was done, he started with The End and played all the way through Dead!, This Is How I Disappear and The Sharpest Lives before Corinna called for him to come eat lunch with her. Bob had to literally force himself to stop and only managed to tear himself away because he would have needed a bigger kit for Welcome To The Back Parade. He really hoped that his girlfriend wouldn’t mind sharing him with the drums today, because he craved them like an addict his next fix. He had never admitted to himself how much he had missed playing, but now that he could do it again, he already knew that he would look for an opportunity to get back into music as soon as possible.

 

Later that night they entered the venue of tonight’s show, arm in arm and already high on adrenaline. So this was what it felt like to be an overly excited parent watching their child perform in a talent show. Rad. True to his word, Frank had gotten them VIP tickets, which meant that they had a small VIP lounge to themselves. Corinna and Bob seemed to be the last ones to arrive, no surprise there, he had played Nate’s drums as long as he could possibly get away with, they were lucky that they hadn’t been delayed by traffic or they might not have made it in time. As a result his palms were covered in blisters and sore spots, but he couldn’t care less. Bob finally felt like himself again.

 

This time Gerard’s wife, who gave him a tense smile and an awkward handshake, had come as well, just like James Dewees, My Chem’s touring keyboardist of many years. Other than Lindsey he greeted Bob with a fierce bear hug and threw him a glance, that said: “You’re a lucky bastard”, when he was introduced to Corinna. They didn’t even get to catch up properly before someone counted down from ten and the opening theme of the show played from the speakers all around the hall. Andy Biersack welcomed the audience in the room and on TV and announced a performance of the coaches before the stage turned dark and Brendon and Frank started to play the intro of “In The End” before Tyler began the rap part and Patrick sang over it. Not exactly what Bob had expected, but they delivered a pretty cool show, he had to give them that.

Three really good performances by the other finalists came and went before The New Jersey Fire took the stage. Bob had tried to coax it out of them, but none of the boys had given him even the slightest hint at which songs they were going to perform. Nate hit his crash cymbal three times before Art provided the synth part. Bob couldn’t help but grin. Common People. Great choice. They kicked it up another notch from the cover the guys had done on that radio show in 2010 or 2011 or something. Bob couldn’t take his eyes off them.

 

Nate was brilliant, Jimmy was obviously nervous, but didn’t miss a single note and Tony was on fire, writhing on the floor and playing upside down in true Frank fashion. All the while Manny grinned like a Cheshire cat and delivered another outstanding performance, but it was Art, who completely stole the show. When Bob had sat in the audience last week, Nate had sung (and done a great job), but Art was mesmerizing to watch. That boy was born to front, holy shit, he put even Gerard to shame! Although he was standing behind a synth and had to keep playing on top of everything else, he held the audience in the palm of his hand. It looked completely natural, effortless, he was so captivating! Honestly, they should have played like this from the start.

 

When the coaches lavished praise on their sons, Bob sat side by side with his former band mates, wearing matching grins and gushing about how well they had done. He had never felt such pride before! They spent the entire commercial break harassing Frank in the guy’s group chat after Bob had been added by Ray. But try as they might, the little fucker refused to tell them about the two songs their sons were still going to perform.

 

The second round came with a twist, as Andy explained once they were back on air. Each band had been appointed a song from a genre as far out of their comfort zone as possible and been told to make it their own. The result was a hardcore rendition of “Ring of Fire”, a pretty decent “Billie Jean” and a fucking dope “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”. Finally their sons took the stage in suspenders, bow ties and flat caps, which looked a little ridiculous combined with ski masks, but who cared.

 

To Bob’s surprise Jimmy carried an upright bass and Tony wore a saxophone around his neck. The lights flashed and they jumped headfirst into a cover of “Diana”. It was upbeat, catchy and absolutely perfect. Now that he wasn’t occupied with playing, Art absolutely owned the stage. He pranced around, leaned against his boyfriend’s shoulder and controlled the room as if he had never done anything different. Bob couldn’t help but think that Gerard had been able to do the same, but now barely resembled the energetic front man he had been four years ago. Was he happier now? Really good question.

 

Another round of applause and praise from the coaches, Taking Back Sunday playing a song off of their new album, that would be released the following month, and it was time for the third round. This time each band was required to play an original song, which was definitely the most interesting part of the night. Once again they listened to the others go first before it was finally time for The New Jersey Fire’s last performance. A few techs rolled in a huge drum kit before the lights went out.

 

It started small, with a single spotlight on Art sitting on the piano. Then a bit of subtle bass, a little flourish of guitar here and there. It was a long build up to a huge climax before it erupted into an incredible bridge, that had both Nate and Manny on their toes. The guitar harmonies were absolutely insane, there was too much going on to take it all in at once, Bob didn’t even dare to imagine how many tracks the studio version had to have. And still Art’s voice carried over it while the four others, even Nate were singing backup vocals. Eventually it quieted down again and ended in a five-part a capella chorus. Bob had been so overwhelmed by the music that he had barely been able to pay attention to the lyrics, but he had at least registered that it was about losing a loved one and going through the stages of grief with a spark of hope at the end. Apparently this was how the boys had dealt with the deaths of their mothers. Wow. Bob couldn’t remember the last time a song had made him cry, but this one was a very close call. It was a true work of art, an anthem, over five minutes long. He couldn’t believe that they had already written their “Welcome To The Black Parade” at the age of eighteen. And the drums, that guitar solo, the emotion in Art’s voice! “Holy fucking shit!”, James whispered next to him. He couldn’t hep but agree.

 

Bob was still speechless when the coaches had shared their opinions and another commercial break ensued to give people a last chance to vote. However, the audience wouldn’t stop applauding. There was a “we want more” chant, that slowly turned into “MCR” the longer it went. He glanced at his former band mates. Mikey’s face didn’t betray any emotion, but the way he held the armrests of his seat in a white-knuckled grip gave away how tense he was. Gerard bit his lips and looked at his shoes, a mess of conflicting emotions showing on his face. And Ray stared at the stage with such longing that Bob felt his chest ache. Both Frank and Mikey had been pretty open about how hard the breakup had been on them, but Ray had never really talked about the things, that weighed him down in public. That was probably why people seemed to think that he had always been the most emotionally stable one of them, but Bob knew better. And right now he saw it all in Toro’s face. None of them had been ready to give up My Chem. No one but Gerard, apparently. Luckily that was the moment the lights went on again and people slowly came off it.

 

“Any plans for a reunion?”, Bob asked no one in particular. Silence was the only answer he got. “I have my solo record coming out in November”, Ray said when it became awkward. That didn’t answer his question. “Will you tour?”, he inquired nevertheless. Ray didn’t look too happy. “Probably not, I doubt that I’ll be able to afford it, I already had to cut down a lot on the album”, he finally admitted. Damn. Toro was the biggest perfectionist Bob had ever known (except maybe for Patrick Stump), so not being able to implement his vision the way he wanted had to be incredibly hard for Ray. He noticed how Christa squeezed his hand and rested her forehead on her husband’s shoulder. “Sorry to hear that, man”, he murmured and dropped the subject. Sometimes he hated the music business. Someone with as much talent as Ray should never have to hold back because of money.

 

Before he could start to brood for good, there was another countdown and he realized that all contestants had assembled onstage with one of those cliche talent show overhead spotlights casting a cone of light on them while the rest of the stage laid in darkness. In the middle of it all the trophy, a golden replica of a microphone, sat on a pedestal. Andy Biersack said a few words before a chick in a red dress handed him a golden envelope. Bob gripped Corinna’s hand in his and held his breath. So this was it. Even if he were objective, he would vote for The New Jersey Fire, but there was no way anyone could predict people’s taste in music. What if one of the other bands already had a bigger fan base that supported them? What if the masks were off-putting or people were biased because Art and Tony had said in every single one of the interviews they had done that they were dating?

 

Of course Andy started off with two bands, that hadn’t won, which turned out to be Surrogate Fuel and Vertigo. “This is torture”, Ray whispered next to him when both bands moved closer together for the final decision. Their sons stood down there with their arms around their shoulders and their eyes on the floor. Andy declared: “The winners of Battle of the Bands 2016… are… with more than 50% of all votes…” Spit it out already, for fuck’s sake! “Come on!”, Mikey hissed in the corner as Corinna’s fingernails dug into the back of Bob’s hand.

 

“THE NEW JERSEY FIRE!”

 

Thank fucking God! Bob breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled like a madman when the boys raised their arms in victory and hugged the living daylights out of each other. He was so happy for them, they really deserved it. All the finalists were talented in their own way, but one had to be blind to miss how truly special The New Jersey Fire were. They would take the world by storm, he was absolutely sure of it. Suddenly Corinna pressed her lips to his and he forgot everything around him. His son had just won a record deal and his girlfriend was kissing him like she meant to devour him here and now. This was the best day ever, hands down.


	10. Did you get what you deserve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: past suicide attempt

The after show party at the Paramour was in full swing. Frank took another swig of his beer and smiled to himself. He didn’t have words to express how incredibly proud he was of their boys. Their last performance had been awe-inspiring, nobody would ever be able to say that they hadn’t deserved everything they had won today. By now he was standing in the inner yard next to the pool with Gerard, Lindsey, Ray and Manny and watched a group of people dance on the other side of the house. Their sons had insisted to keep wearing their masks, so he could only guess that the two members of the winning band on the dance floor were Tony and Art. Just then they kissed each other and the taller one grabbed the other’s ass in both hands. Alright. So much for that.

 

“Don’t you think it’s gonna be… difficult to have a couple within the band?”, Gee asked Ray’s son after a while and nodded towards the two lovebirds, who had proceeded to a pretty intense make out session. Manny scoffed quietly and shook his head at his friends’ antics. “You know… what they have… it’s real. I’ve never seen anything like it. And I can absolutely guarantee that it would be a much bigger problem to _not_ have them be a couple. They would drive us crazy with their whining and pining, we’ve had a few weeks of that before they figured out that they belong with each other and I don’t need it again”, he explained as if it were the most obvious thing ever. It sounded so simple when he put it like that. If only Gerard had seen it like this all those years ago. Frank barely managed to bite back his sob in time and tried to cover it by acting like he had choked on his beer. Ray hit his back a few times and gently squeezed his shoulder in the end. Of course there was no fooling his friend.

 

He couldn’t take this, he had seen too much of Gee during the last days already and felt about ready to burst. Frank murmured something about going to the restroom and made a run for it. Thank God he knew the estate so well, he was out in the garden in no time and made for the trees around the basketball court again. That had always been his spot whenever everything had gotten too much. He came to a stop as soon as he was hidden from view, wrapped his arms around his middle and crouched down with a pathetic whimper. Tony was a great guy and he didn’t begrudge him his relationship, not at all, but why couldn’t it have been him? Why couldn’t he have had the man he loved, as well? Was that really too much to ask for? He didn’t even really need My Chem, just… just Gerard. Frank knew without a doubt that there would never be anybody like him again. Not to him. He would probably die as a bitter, lonely old man. On second thought… maybe not that old. Not that old at all.

 

Suddenly he noticed quickly approaching footsteps. Frank wanted to scream. Was there no peace at all for him? Why couldn’t the world fuck off and leave him be, only for a few minutes?! “Are you okay?”, Gerard asked behind him. Of fucking course it would be him. Frank couldn’t believe it, that was the single most stupid question ever. Before he could control himself, he burst into a bout of ugly, cynic laughter. Oh, the irony! “Funny that it’s _you_ asking me that. I haven’t been okay in years! I almost had everything I ever wanted and _you took it away from me_!”, he spat, almost screaming the last part. The injustice of it all hit him like a fist to the solar plexus. Gerard had come out of My Chem and their relationship as a successful solo artist with a picture perfect marriage and a thriving career in comics. He was writing _Doom Patrol_ , for fuck’s sake! But Frank was just a depressed little punk asshole with a broken heart, who tried to front his own band, even though he was so not made for that position.

 

“What do you mean… My Chem?”, Gerard asked him after a few beats of awkward silence. Oh, that was just rich! The fact that he didn’t even _realize_ what he had done to him was what infuriated Frank more than anything else he could have said. The ultimate proof that he had never been to Gerard what he still was to him. He had kept it all inside, it had long torn his heart apart and poisoned his mind, but now that he was faced with such blatant ignorance, it all came out in a vicious, acid rush of words.

 

“The band, the family, the guy I loved more than anyone or anything else! Have you never wondered why I didn’t even try to save my relationship when Jamia broke up with me? I was hoping that you’d give us a chance if I were single again! And I kept hoping until the very end that you would leave your wife for me one day and that _I_ would get to grow old with you! But I get it now, I know that it’s never gonna happen. I just wish I could hate you, that would make it so much easier!”

 

Frank wanted to push past him, find a new place to hide and just make everything _stop_. He was long past his breaking point. But Gerard didn’t even grant him that, grabbed his wrist and pulled him into his arms. He held him like he had all those years ago and Frank hated his body for it, but he melted into the embrace as hot tears sprang to his eyes. Why did he never learn? Frank knew that nothing would change, he fucking _knew_ it! And still he stayed put, like a dog running after his master, even if he was kicked, yelled at and treated like shit. Gerard pressed his lips into his hair and sighed quietly. “I never wanted to let you go, Frankie”, he whispered. What the actual… no. This was wrong on so many levels. Frank pushed him away as hard as he could. Gerard stumbled backwards, a look of hurt and utter confusion on his face, but Frank was past caring.

 

“ _Let me go?_ Are fucking serious?! Don’t you dare put this on me! I’ve never been more than a fuck toy to you, you’re the one, who didn’t want me! I’m so fucking done with your shit, Gee!”, he yelled at him and felt a twisted kind of satisfaction at Gerard’s totally dumbstruck expression. That was when someone gasped to their right and Lindsey stepped out of her hiding place behind a thick tree trunk. Oh, to hell with it all! Frank didn’t fucking care anymore. “You know what? Fine! I’ll give you one last chance! Break up with her here and now and I’ll take you back! Or leave me the fuck alone and never come near me again!”, he hissed venomously. This had nothing to do with love anymore. Frank didn’t even know why he had said it, did he honestly expect Gerard to suddenly love him back? They both stared at him in shock. Frank braced himself for the inevitable rejection. It had happened so often by now, but it would hurt just as bad, if not worse. Just… get it over with. He repeated his old mantra over and over in his head. ‘He doesn’t want you. You’re never gonna be enough. He doesn’t love you like you love him.’

 

For a while it was eerily quiet. All that could be heard was the wind rustling through the trees, the buzz of traffic in the distance and the faint sound of music from the house. Frank closed his eyes. Why couldn't Gerard put him out of his misery already so that he could hide somewhere and try to put himself back together? Apparently, for once, he agreed with Lindsey, who murmured her husband’s name with her lips pressed into a thin line and her fists clenched at her sides. But Gee didn’t say anything. He stared at the ground, his body taut as a bowstring and the muscles in his jaw twitching as he gritted his teeth.

 

Just when Frank was about ready to call it quits and make a run for it, he whispered: “I’m sorry, Lyn-Z.” What the… wait. Frank had to have misheard that. There was no way in hell. Gerard had wasted so many chances to make things right between them, it had been _twelve years!_ Frank didn’t believe in happy endings anymore and he would never admit it, but there was a tiny hopeful flutter in his chest, that would make it so much worse when the same old pattern inevitably repeated itself again. Lindsey finally found her voice and spat: “You can’t be serious!” When Gerard finally raised his head, his eyes had glazed over and he was shaking, but he still managed to look his wife in the eye and repeat: “I’m sorry.” All color drained from Lindsey’s face. Gerard looked like he was about to either throw up or pass out. And Frank felt himself grow lightheaded as his mind struggled to take it all in. This wasn’t happening, someone had to have spiced his drink or something.

 

“I really wanted us to work out, I’ve tried so hard! But I can’t, Lyn-z, I can’t do this anymore. It’s been nine years and I still can’t get him out of my head!”, Gerard sobbed, loosing the fight against his tears after all. She recoiled as if he had hit her and turned around to press a shaking hand against her mouth. When she faced them again, her expression gave absolutely nothing away. She looked like a statue. “I’ve always known this would happen sooner or later”, she stated in a tense voice and shook her head. “I’m sorry”, Gerard whispered again. Lindsey snorted derisively. “Keep your apology. I’ll get my stuff out of the house. You’ll hear from my lawyer”, she said and threw a nasty glance at Frank before she turned around and left them in the darkness.

 

Frank swallowed hard, he was at an utter loss for words. Whatever he had expected Gerard to say, it certainly wasn’t this! All those years he had been sure where they stood, but now that Gerard had shaken their status quo… truth be told, he was scared. Gee closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before he closed the distance between them and took Frank’s hand. “Did you mean it?”, he asked him in such a small voice that Frank had to fight the impulse to give him a hug. But he had to do this right, or at least try to protect himself a little. If they were only going to repeat the same old pattern of lies and secrets, he would turn it down. He could only take so much and he had to be there for Tony. Gerard would not break what was left of him even more, now that he had a son to think of.

 

Frank bit his lips and squared his shoulders. “I did, but… Only if you stop playing with me. I won’t be your dirty little secret anymore. No cheating. No more lies. No more excuses, no more sneaking around, no more calling it a stage act. No more running away whenever I get too clo-...”, he ground out, but was cut off by a fierce hug. Gerard pressed him to his chest. Frank could feel him shaking and buried his face in his shoulder. It felt so good to be held by him again!

 

“God, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe that you actually have to ask me for all that. I’m so fucking sorry, Frankie! I can’t believe I let it go so far, I never meant to hurt you! I… I love you. I’ve loved you all along. It’s just… I was so scared! I should have moved in with you when you asked me. I just... panicked”, Gee whispered into the fabric of Frank’s hoodie, almost choking on his words. Frank sighed heavily. “I know”, he replied. He had figured out that last part a long time ago. “It’s okay.” It really, really wasn’t. He could understand to a certain degree that Gerard had been terrified of what it would have meant for them to have an openly gay relationship. Maybe Frank had put too much pressure on him, in retrospect he probably could have given him more time and tried to reassure him. But no matter what, cheating on him with Lindsey and marrying her without even telling him was never gonna be okay. Gee pulled back until their eyes met. “Can you ever forgive me?”, he asked him.

 

“I don’t know. And I have no idea how to trust you, but… all we can do is give it our best shot and see where it takes us, right? And… you know, the one thing our sons want the most is a proper family. We have to try. For them. It’s the very least they deserve”, Frank replied wearily. He would have to get over everything, that had happened in the past. Somehow. It really depended entirely on Gerard. Maybe, if he could prove to Frank that he meant it this time. Gee nodded, apparently he had finally gotten the message. Thank God.

 

Ever so slowly Frank felt the events of the day catch up on him. He was so worn out, if this weren’t the Paramour, he would have collapsed into the nearest bed and slept for days. Instead he rested his forehead against Gerard’s and let that familiar scent of cigarettes, coffee and musk surround him. They stood there, breathing each other in for a while. Frank felt himself relax, like he was finally scratching an itch. “Can I kiss you?”, Gee asked him timidly. He tensed up. Was it a good idea? Probably not. Did he want to? Oh God, yes! Desperately. He probably should say no, they were already rushing into this again, but Frank had never claimed to make the most sensible decisions.

 

The moment their lips met, he felt something fragile and broken inside him start to mend. He had waited so long for this and pressed closer, couldn't get enough. A small voice inside him still insisted that he didn't know when or if he would get to kiss Gerard again, so he took everything he could, desperate to make it last. Gee's lips were just as soft as he remembered. He tasted of cigarettes, coffee and the soda he had had at the party a few minutes ago. It couldn't possibly have been more perfect, to Frank it felt like coming home.  
  
"We should go back before they come looking for us", Gerard proposed after a few minutes of tender touches and quiet sighs. Frank nuzzled his face into his neck and groaned unwillingly. They could have stayed here forever if he had anything to say about it. Gee chuckled quietly and kissed his hair before he took his hand and murmured: "Come on, let's go watch our sons make out in public." Frank begrudgingly let himself be led towards the house. It still didn't feel real to him, were they really gonna show up holding hands? Would people notice? Probably. Their closer friends and their children definitely would. Actually he couldn't wait to see their faces. But when they came closer to the brightly lit inner yard, Gerard put a little more distance between them and let go.  
  
Frank's breath caught in his throat as the sudden chill crept all the way from his fingers to his chest. It hadn't even been half an hour since he had made his terms clear and already his boyfriend was falling back into old habits. Was he even his boyfriend? Fuck if he knew. So much was still unsaid, they had so much to talk about, Frank felt a little lost, to be honest. He had no clue where they stood, it was driving him crazy and not in a good way. "I don't want to draw attention to us. Tonight is all about the boys, let's not steal their spotlight", Gee whispered into his ear. Frank let out a long breath and managed a smile. Of course he was right. He should have thought of that himself instead of jumping to conclusions. But could he be blamed? His deductions were based on years of experience.

 

In the end it took Mikey, Ray and Bob only one look at them to figure it out, Frank could tell from their faces, but none of them called them out on it. Gerard offered to get them drinks and Mikey immediately ran after him when he made for the bar, which was how Frank found himself standing in front of Ray, Bob and Corinna on his own. Ray sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, Frankie. Lindsey left a few minutes ago, she told us what happened. Please be careful, okay?”, he said just loud enough for Frank to hear. Oh man, that was so much easier said than done. Bob nodded with a very serious expression. “If you ever need someone to punch him, you know where to find me”, he added with a wicked grin. Frank managed a smile. It felt good to be looked after. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks. To both of you”, he murmured just when Gee and Mikey returned with their drinks.

 

They sat together for a while, sipping their beverages while Ray told them about his progress on his solo album. However, Frank couldn’t help but notice how quiet Gerard had become. Eventually he excused himself and made for the restroom with his shoulders hunched and his hands buried in his pockets. Frank looked after him and tried to fight off the strange sense of foreboding, that crept up on him. His gut feeling had seldom let him down and right now all his alarm bells were going off. After five minutes or so, Mikey rose and followed his brother, which wasn’t a good sign, either.

 

The longer Gee was gone, the more Frank’s fingers tightened around his glass. Probably Gerard only needed a moment to calm down, after all he had just broken up with his wife. God, this was crazy! But as much as Frank wanted to trust him and give him the benefit of the doubt, that fucking voice in his head wouldn’t shut up. He could just picture it, Gerard running away yet again, calling Lindsey, begging her to take him back. He sighed and downed the rest of his drink in one go. There was keeping a low profile and then there was hiding in the bathroom. He should have fucking known it.

 

“The offer still stands, you know?”, Bob told him softly when Frank’s fidgeting became obvious. This day was wearing him out, he had already been knackered before the latest drama. “Thank you, but no. I’ll just...”, he started to say, but Bob shook his head and pulled him back down onto the bench they were sitting on when he tried to get up. “Frankie, if I let you leave now, you might not come back”, the drummer whispered and put an arm around his shoulders. Frank closed his eyes and let himself be held by his friend. Bob had always called bullshit when he had pretended to be fine. He was so glad to have him back, especially now that Gerard was tearing him apart yet again.

 

When Frank looked up, Ray set down his glass with a scowl. He looked ready to murder someone, holy shit, Frank couldn’t remember the last time he had seen such an expression on his face. Suddenly his friend growled a string of curses and stormed off into the direction Gerard and Mikey had disappeared in. Jesus Christ, Toro was fucking _pissed_. It took a lot to push him so far, but whenever he got like this, it was best to shut up and run for cover, he was a force of nature if he wanted to be.

 

It didn’t even take five minutes before Gerard came running towards them with a red bruise, that was already starting to swell, on his jaw. Frank could process neither the fact that Ray had punched him nor his absolutely horrified expression in time before Gee pulled him to his feet and kissed him for everyone to see. A strangled sob tore out of Gerard’s chest as he clung to him, shaking like a leaf and digging his fingers into his shoulders. A few flashes of light indicated that there would be pictures of this all over the internet, but Gee didn’t even seem to notice. Frank could barely breathe, his heart was beating out of his chest, this was what he had wanted all along. To be allowed to call him his and for all the world to know. He felt the wetness of Gerard’s tears on his cheeks as he struggled to breathe through the onslaught.

 

Eventually Gee pulled back and buried his face in his shoulder. Frank wrapped his arms around him and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with all the people around them, yet, not when his friend was so obviously distraught. Frank had a feeling that he knew what Ray had done and murmured: “He told you, didn’t he?” He had no idea how to feel about the fact that Gee knew, at the moment it was just too much to figure out his emotions. “I’m so fucking sorry! I… You almost… God, Frankie, please stay with me”, Gerard sobbed into his shoulder. Frank breathed a sigh of relief. It was the first time that he hadn’t been the one to say those words in their relationship, although he really wished that it hadn’t taken a near more or less accidental suicide attempt on his part to hear it. “Always. As long as you’ll have me”, he whispered in reply and meant every single word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last regular chapter, only the epilogue to go.
> 
> I'm sorry for the lack of Frerard smut, I really wasn't feeling like it and it doesn't fit with the storyline anyway.


	11. I'll meet your eyes, I mean this forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, thank you to everyone, who took the time to read <3

It was the summer of 2019. They had yet another barbecue at Ray’s house, which had become somewhat of a tradition by now.

Manny showed his half-brother a few Mario Kart shortcuts while Nate and Jimmy pretended not to let them win.

Tony played his father the newest demo of The New Jersey Fire, that was gonna be the first single off of their third studio album.

Christa watched two little girls play in the sandbox. Three-year-old Rowan Way and Anabelle Bryar, who was only a few months younger, were best friends and hardly went a day without seeing each other.

In the meantime Ray prepared the food, silently laughing at Bob and James, who were standing on chairs in the middle of an utter chaos of clothes. Mikey, Kristin and Corinna bustled about, making them try all kinds of colorful leather jackets, bandannas, masks and accessories. Since it was 2019, they wanted to shoot the third Danger Days video after all and release it the day the album had come out nine years ago. So their drummer and keyboardist needed a killjoy outfit, whether they liked it (James) or not (Bob).

Bob sat through it, feeling sorry for himself and plotting how to get back at Mikey for the assault. He had really hoped to get around it somehow, but no such luck. The tuxedos they had worn for their comeback album had been so much better than this stupid Japanese dance party. But then he saw the way his wife beamed at him while little bumps popped up all over her belly, where his son was growing. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. And if him running around the desert with a plastic gun meant that she would look at him like this, it would be absolutely worth it. Their third anniversary was coming up and ever so slowly he started to believe that she wouldn’t be taken away from him by some asshole Olympian God anymore.

Night was falling, already the first stars could be seen. Art emerged from behind the house and asked: “Frank? Do you have a minute?” He led him towards the battered van, that had carried The New Jersey Fire all over the US on their first tour with Panic! At The Disco. He gestured for Frank to climb up on the roof and smiled like a Cheshire cat when he heard his surprised gasp.

Gerard was kneeling on the roof of the van with a small velvet box in his hand. It was then that Frank, fifteen years after that night on Warped Tour, was asked the question he had wanted to hear all along.


End file.
